


Destiny Knows Best

by TaliskerMortem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, And I Will Add Tags With The Chapters, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, But It's Not Really Anyone's Fault, Daddy Derek, Domestic, Dubious Consent, In Regards To The Knotting, Kid Boyd, Knotting, M/M, Oral Knotting, Rimming, This Will Have Plot, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaliskerMortem/pseuds/TaliskerMortem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was supposed to be just an ordinary one-night stand. A quick tumble in the sheets and then good-bye. Derek’s wolf however, had other plans.</i>
</p><p>OR: The one in which Derek and Stiles do the do and a certain part of Derek’s wolfish anatomy decides they should be bonded for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well That Was Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a fic I should not be writing. I will get back to Backwards at some point and I _will_ finish The Other Woman this holiday, I promise! Also, sorry for the horrendously awkward sex scene. I just wasn't feeling it so much today and might go back and change it at some point. Anyways, enjoy.

    

    

    

Derek

**Well That Was Unexpected**

Smoke distorted what little light there was in the crowded bar, making it hard to distinguish any one person from the masses. Biker gangs had taken up most of the booths, their boots leaving trails of dust in their wake and their leathers creaking with every move they made. There must be a biking event nearby that he was unaware of. A girl with a wild mane of hair was annihilating some of the rougher looking men at a game of pool while her friend watched on in resigned amusement. Across the bar, a woman with bright blue eyes was studying him thoughtfully, as if debating whether she wanted to take him home tonight – which, to be honest, she probably is. Derek considers her momentarily before the door behind her blows open once again and a lanky kid strides in, leather jacket hanging comfortably from his frame and black jeans so tight Derek wonders how he can even move. He’s wearing aviators even though it’s almost dark outside and his mouth is pulled into what Derek would guess is a semi-permanent smirk.

When the kid pulls off the glasses and scans the bar, his eyes land on Derek and he pauses before flashing a downright sinful grin in his direction. He doesn’t make his way over though, just sways between the bodies obstructing his way to the opposite side of the bar to Derek. His fingers flick up to attract the barmaid’s attention and Derek cannot help the dirty thoughts that flood his mind at the sight of the kid’s hands. He downs his whiskey in one to dispel the flare of arousal at the though of what those hands would feel like all over his body.

The kid grins at the barmaid, pulling her into conversation despite the crowd still waiting for drinks before faking realization that he is holding up the queue and letting her go back to her work with a demure smile. She flushes prettily and continues to shoot glances in his direction whilst serving the other customers. But the kid has moved on, talking animatedly with another young brunette and waving those goddamn sinful hands around carelessly. Someone taps on the bar in front of him and Derek starts, jerking his gaze away from the kid towards where the owner of the establishment was shaking her head at him and looking like it was taking some effort not to roll her eyes.

“You want another?” she chuckles, indicating to his empty glass.

“Sure,” he nods, pushing it towards her.

“He comes in occasionally, flirts with half the bar and then leaves,” she tells him and Derek doesn’t have to ask to know she’s talking about the kid but flushes at how obviously he had been staring. “Some times with someone, sometimes without,” she shrugs. “Susie’s head over heals for him,” she jerks her head at the barmaid. “Should hate the guy for leading her on but I honestly don’t think he has a clue. Always polite when I serve him,” she continues as if trying to give Derek a picture of his kid’s character. “Can never remember his name though, something weird.”

“Thanks,” Derek grunts as Jen hands him his whiskey and she smirks, knowing he’s thanking her for more than just the drink. “Isn’t he a bit young to be in a bar?” the question slips out before Derek can help himself.

“His ID says he’s twenty-five,” she chuckles. “Looks pretty real to me too. Don’t let him break you heart honey,” she warns as an afterthought before another of her regulars beckons her from the other side of the bar. “Drink’s on me,” she waves away his proffered money. His eyes are back on the kid before she’s even halfway across the bar.

The kid – or maybe not so much a kid if his ID is to be believed – has taken off his jacket at thrown it across an abandon chair to reveal a ridiculously tight burgundy top and lean muscular arms. Fuck. A small crowd seems to have gathered around him, all hanging from his every word, men and women alike. A few of them grab pool cues and they migrate around one of the tables, throwing jibes at one another. One of the smaller guys, wearing a faded band shirt, sidles up to the kid and Derek notices that despite his young looking features, the kid carries himself with a self-assuredness that betrays his maturity. The guy has his hand on the kid’s hip and the kid bends down to murmur something in his ear and as he does so, his eyes flick up, straight at Derek and he flashes him another sinful grin. Derek raises an eyebrow in response, which simply makes the kid’s grin wider.

And so it goes on, for the next three hours. The kid flirting with just about every person in the bar that swings his way and every so often, flashing Derek a devious grin that makes his insides squirm a little and is always returned with a raised eyebrow.

“Never usually stays this long,” Jen informs him, once again dragging his eyes away from the kid. “Must be extra picky this evening – that or he’s spotted someone he think is worth a little more effort,” she smirks, reaching for his empty glass. “You want another?”

“Allow me,” someone injects from Derek’s right. Jen and Derek turn their heads simultaneously to look at the new arrival at the now slightly emptier bar. It’s the kid of course. Who else would it be? Jen raises her eyebrow at Derek in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of his mother, he nods though and she refills his glass and takes the money the kid slides across the bar to her. “Evening,” he practically purrs, leaning against the bar to face Derek.

Derek nods in response, a little worried his voice might betray his pent up arousal. The kid chuckles, taking a sip of his own beer and putting his weight on the elbow closest to Derek in a way that somehow tilts his body closer. Derek swallows sharply, feeling wildly out of his depth all of a sudden. He hasn’t taken a stranger home in well over a year and is feeling decidedly rusty on the protocols.

“You wanna get out of here?” the kid asks bluntly, turn Derek’s worries to dust.

“Sure,” he nods, throwing back the last of his whiskey and standing up to grab his jacket from the back of the barstool. The kid abandons his beer on the bar and slips his arms into his own jacket, which he had been holding making Derek marvel at how self-assured he was to approach him ready to leave. They head towards the exit; Derek throws a nod in Jen’s direction, which she promptly waves away. Several people watch them leave and the kid smirks, slinging an arm over Derek’s shoulder to ward off the guy with the band shirt who is looking thoroughly pissed.

“Your place or mine?” Derek manages to ask when they get out of the stuffy bar and into the cool night air.

“Yours if that’s alright,” the kid shrugs. “You got a car?”

“Walked, it’s only a down the road.”

“Sweet,” the kid grins, then he ducks forward suddenly to whisper in Derek’s ear, his hot breath caressing his neck and sending shivers down his spine. “Lead the way handsome.”

It takes them seven minutes to walk from the bar to Derek’s apartment block. Seven minutes in which they don’t say a word. Seven minutes for the air between them to grow taught with electricity and desire. By the time Derek manages to unlock the door to his blessedly empty apartment, he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get his hands on the kid. Which of course, leads to him slamming the kid against the wall next to the door before the door has even shut behind them.

Derek wipes the smirk of the kids face instantly, crushing their mouths together and setting nerve endings on fire. The kid’s mouth his hot and Derek is desperate. He hasn’t felt another body against his like this in almost two years. Hands roam across the planes of his chest and his shirt is being tugged up and is bunched under his arms.

“Fuck,” the kid gasps. “Get this _off_ ,” he orders, yanking sharply on Derek’s t-shirt. Reluctantly, Derek releases his hold of the boy and obliges, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his top off, throwing the offending garment over his shoulder. “Holy fuck,” the kid practically moans, running his fingertips over Derek’s abs. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses when Derek drops his mouth onto the kid’s neck and sucks. “I swear to God if you make me jizz in my pants I will never forgive you,” he somehow manages to articulate. Derek lets out a dark chuckle, grinding his hips down and freeing a series of curses from the younger man’s sinful mouth. “I need y- I need you inside me,” he whines, rocking against Derek.

“So impatient,” Derek chuckles again. “Turn around,” he orders and the kid almost trips over his own feet in his haste to obey, shucking off his jacket in the process. Derek presses the kid against the wall, watches as he reaches his hands up to brace himself, tilting his head to the side to allow Derek continued access to his neck. The older man licks a trail between the moles scattered across the gloriously pale skin. Derek almost rips the kid’s shirt when he yanks it over his head to give him access to the kid’s back. His right shoulder blade is marked with complicated tattoo that reaches down in spindles towards his elbow and lower ribs. Derek wants to study ever last line but right now is not the time. Slipping a hand around to the kid’s front, he undoes his belt, dragging him closer and grinding his dick against the guy’s ass, eliciting moan after moan and a feeble scrabble of his stupidly long fingers against the wall in search of purchase.

Then his pants and boxers are around his ankles and Derek’s is on his knees behind him. “This okay?” he whispers huskily, massaging one perfectly round globe in his right hand. The guy makes a strangled noise and Derek looks up to see him nodding his head vigorously. Derek wastes no time and dives right in, making he kid buck his hips and release a string of incoherent words. Flicking his tongue over his rim, Derek runs his fingers around the fluttering hole. He barely remembers the last time he did this, years ago in a stranger’s apartment with a man whose name he can’t remember. If he even knew it in the first place.

“Hey kid,” Derek pulls away from his ass, resulting in a forlorn whine from above him. “What’s your name anyways?”

“Sti-Stiles,” the kid – Stiles – choked out. Jen was right: something weird.

“Derek,” he answers the question Stiles looks beyond actually asking.

“Left hand pocket of my jeans,” Stiles responds with a non-sequitur. Derek raises an eyebrow but reaches for Stiles’ jacket anyway whilst continuing to massage the guy’s hole absentmindedly with his thumb. He comes away with a condom and two packets of lube. Nice thinking.

Emptying one of the packets onto his hand, Derek goes back to work, drawing desperate sounds from Stiles lips and rubbing his own erection through his jeans. When Stiles is sufficiently doused in spit, Derek reaches up with lubed fingers and pushes in without warning.

“ _Fuck_!” Stiles almost screams. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants.

“You okay?” Derek murmurs, standing up again to mouth at Stiles’ ear.

“So good,” he pants, rocking his hips down onto Derek’s fingers as he adds another

“You make such pretty sounds,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ hair. “When I touch you, when I rim you, when I’ve got my fingers inside you. You’re so needy, so ready for me. You want me so bad, don’t you Stiles,” he groans.

“Want you, want you so bad Der-” Stiles chokes of on a scream as Derek finds that sweet spot in his ass. “Please, please, please,” he sobs.

“Please what, Stiles? You’ll have to be more specific,” he smirks.

“Need you to fuck me,” Stiles manages to gasp out, pressing his forehead against the wall, his arms shaking as they hold him up. “Need you,” he chokes.

“God Stiles, look at you, so needy, so greedy, so desperate,” Derek groans again, reaching down to undo his own belt. “So fucking beautiful.” Shoving his pants and boxers down, Derek hastily rips open the condom packet with his teeth and somehow manages to get it on with one hand still buried knuckle deep in the fucking majestic boy in front of him.

“ _Please_ ,” Stiles cries.

“Patience Stiles,” Derek croons, relishing the way Stiles responds to his name on Derek’s tongue. When he’s sure Stiles is thoroughly stretched, Derek grabs his cock and carefully guides it to Stiles’ hole, the whines Stiles makes when he removes his fingers going straight to his already rock hard dick. “You ready Stiles?”

“Mnghm,” is the answer he gets but Stiles is thrusting his hips back and wiggling his ass in a way that makes it very clear how ready he is. Derek slips in easily, the delicious heat consuming him, so overwhelming he has to pause or else risk blowing his load then and there. When Stiles jerks his hips backwards and makes a need noise deep in his throat, Derek gets the hint and draws back almost fully before thrusting in again with such force, Stiles is slammed against the wall again. They set up a brutal rhythm and Derek has no idea how he’s going to last at this rate, with Stiles moaning constantly and their hot bodies rubbing against each other with every thrust.

Derek wants _more_. Wants to feel all of Stiles. Wrapping his arms around the younger man’s chest, Derek pulls him back so that he is plastered along his chest. Keeping one hand on the wall the brace himself, Stiles reaches back with the other the tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair. Overwhelmed, Derek returns his mouth to Stiles’ neck, eager to taste him, to mark him up.

His thrusts soon lose any semblance of control but Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, moaning and whimpering in Derek’s arms like he belonged there. And Derek is half afraid of losing his mind with desire, can’t remember being this turned on by anyone in his life, desperate for release but vehemently opposed to this blistering heat ending.

But he is close. So terribly close. And by the way Stiles is barely holding himself up anymore, head cradled in the arm he has pressed against the wall and just bending to Derek’s every move, he isn’t that far off either. A broken whimper escapes him and Derek thinks he might break along with him.

His thrusts are becoming shallower, faster. Stiles seems to be constricting around him, the heat becoming too much. And Derek is so close. Then Stiles jerks strangely, yanking Derek from his fog.

“Dude, _what the fuck is wrong with your dick_?” Stiles gushes, panic evident in both his tone and his features as he whips his head around to look at Derek. And _holy fuck_. Derek is rutting against him now, not pulling out at all, not being _able_ to.

Embarrassment and shame engulf him. Why the fuck is this happening? Was he really so out of control? Has it just been so long that Derek’s anatomy is completely fucked up?

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, trying to pull out of Stiles but his knot is already wedged too deep. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries, panicking, frantic.

“That’s… That’s not a-” Stiles stutters, then: “oh _of course_.” The latter half coming out far more aggressive. “Of _course_ I would bang a werewolf. Of _fucking course_ ,” he curses, the panic seeming to ebb out of him and being replaced with irritation or something similar.

“Wait- you _know about us?_ ” Derek asks in astonishment, finally stilling and resting his hands on Stiles hips.

“Yeah buddy, I know about you and you’re fucking lucky too – imagine if I hadn’t, the fuck would you have been able to explain away a fucking _knot_ dude? I mean, flashing eyes is one thing – maybe a trick of the light or whatever but a _knot_? You’re going to buried in my ass for fucking _hours_! If I didn’t know what the fuck was going on I can assure you that I would have had several panic attacks in that time you stupid shit,” Stiles snaps.

“I’m sorry… I just… I don’t understand,” Derek confesses in a whisper, staring down at where he and Stiles were joined. “This isn’t supposed to happen… we’re only supposed to- to knot our _mates_. It’s supposed to take _years_ to form a bond strong enough to induce a knot. I don’t understand,” Derek sighs forlornly. Of course this would happen to him. Everything goes wrong – he can’t even have a one-night stand without fucking up everything.

“Hey buddy, it’s alright,” Stiles mutters, reaching back to pat Derek’s thigh awkwardly. “We’ll figure it out,” he gives a half-smile, nothing like the smirks and grins he had been throwing around all evening and it is somehow soothing. “Maybe we could- Is there any chance we could, uh, finish up here though first? Because I’m still rock hard here dude – my body clearly doesn’t understand serious situations,” he chuckles.

Derek reaches a hand forward to wrap around Stiles dick but he pushes it away. Confused, Derek glances up to see Stiles shaking his head. “Dude, I was so close to coming totally untouched when your expanding dick scared the shit out of me – well not literally because it’s kind of in the way and I should probably shut up around about now but you get the general idea, please continue to fuck me if you wish because you have a glorious dick that does amazing things,” Stiles rushes out, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“But I _can’t_ ,” Derek mutters glumly.

“Uh… that thing you were doing when my big mouth rudely interrupted us was pretty good and that didn’t involve you moving all that much,” Stiles babbles, his face turning almost as red as his ears. “Unless you don’t want to, that’s totally cool, we can just wait until your um, knot, dies down and-” he cuts off on a gasp as Derek ruts against him.

“I like this idea better,” Derek murmurs in his ear and Stiles throw his head back again to allow Derek to maul his already marked neck again. It doesn’t take long before the fire is back in his belly again and he runs his hands desperately all over Stiles’ body, who is whimpering in his arms once more. “So fucking beautiful,” Derek groans, running a thumb over Stiles’ lip – who doesn’t hesitate to suck it into his mouth. Derek quickly exchanges it for two fingers and holy _fuck_. “So close Stiles,” Derek pants, rutting harder and faster, changing the angle slightly until Stiles is keening in his arms, sounds muffled from the fingers he is sucking desperately on. Derek runs his free hand over the planes of Stiles taught chest, grazing his nipple and Stiles clamps up around him, head falling back onto his shoulder as strips of white coat the wall in front of them.

The sight hurls Derek over the edge too and he is coming deep within Stiles, the condom split long ago with the arrival of Derek’s knot. Stiles continues to writher in his arms, eye closed and face slack with pleasure. “Fuck,” Derek sighs, arms holding Stiles even tighter against him. “Fuck.”

“That…” Stiles breathes out a little while later. “Was incredible.”

“Wasn’t bad,” Derek teases and is rewarded with an indignant huff.

“Is there any chance we can maybe move this to a horizontal surface because there’s no way my legs can hold me up if you let go,” Stiles confesses unabashedly. Derek nuzzles his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck before picking him up awkwardly and stumbling towards the bedroom. Thank fuck his apartment was all one level.

Somehow he manages to lower them both onto his bed without too much trouble and Stiles succeeds in pushing down the covers with his feet so that they can wiggle under them. When Derek hesitates, Stiles reaches back and grabs his arm to wrap around himself.

“So…” Stiles begins.

“How do you know about us?” is what comes out of Derek’s mouth – whether as an avoidance of the real issue at hand or out of pure curiosity, he is not entirely sure himself. Stiles chuckles either way.

“My best friend was bitten when we were sixteen,” he explains. “Some rouge Alpha passing through. The local Alpha sought him out and explained things, helped him through his first moon and whatever – I was just told the basics but I’m a curious little shit and Scott was by best buddy so he told me what he could and I researched the rest – scared myself permanently in the process but there we go, the internet is a dangerous place. Over the years I’ve managed to work out what’s true and what’s complete bullshit.

“Anyway, there was another werewolf at our high school and she sort of kept an eye on us until I got too annoying and forced her friendship,” he chuckles. “I know a fair few of you guys now and haven’t had a problem with any of you – no that’s a lie. I’ve met one super creepy werewolf who was married to a friend of mine,” he shivers. “But I’d rather not think about him when I’m in bed with another wolf’s knot in my ass.”

“You’ve had other knots?” Derek asks, sitting bolt upright in panic.

“ _What?_ ” Stiles squeals, Derek’s movements jostling him. “No!”

“You just said-”

“That is _not_ what I meant! I meant I didn’t want to be talking or thinking about creepy people when I was in bed with you!” Stiles protests and Derek relaxes at his steady heart rate. “Besides, isn’t it a one person, one wolf, one knot kind of thing?” he asks a little quieter.

Derek doesn’t respond. Because he is right. A werewolf only knots one person in their life: their mate. It’s not quite like soulmates because there is more than one person who _could_ be your mate but once you form a strong enough bond with one of these people, then they can become your mate (through knotting) and a werewolf only ever has one mate. And similarly, if their mate isn’t a werewolf too, they can only ever be mated to one werewolf.

“I’m sorry,” Derek eventually whispers, so quiet if Stiles wasn’t pressed right up against him, Derek doubts he would have heard.

“What for big guy? It’s not like you did it deliberately… is it?” the note of panic at the end raises the hairs on Derek’s arms.

“ _No_!” he denies instantly. “Of course not, I just… I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out… I know a guy who might know something about it if you’re comfortable talking about it?”

“Sure, but he better not be as cryptic as the guy I know we could talk to – not that I want to talk to him because he’s married to my sister and that would be a hundred kinds of awkward,” Derek huffs.

“Must be an emissary things I’m afraid, this guy’s pretty vague,” Stiles chuckles and Derek groans. There needs to be more straight talking people in the world. “Do you… Do you have any ideas though, about why it happened?” Stiles asks tentatively.

“Nope… I mean there are legends and whatever but I don’t believe in any of them,” he shrugs truthfully. “There are stories about everything, they’re just fairytales.”

“What do they say…?” Stiles pries.

“Shit about ‘True Mates’ – but like I said, they’re just bullshit,” Derek reiterates and he is not sure why he is being so adamant about it. Stiles doesn’t say anything. “I’m serious, these are the same stories that have fucking talking frogs and lily pads that turn into water spirits that drag virgins into the depths – it’s all bullshit.”

“Do you think it’ll still work, like a real mated pair I mean,” he asks after a while.

“I have no idea… Do you belong to a pack?”

“What? Yes, my best friend, remember. It’s not a very big pack but it’s what we have.”

“Didn’t he join the local alpha’s pack?” Derek frowns.

“Scott’s an alpha.”

“If we are properly mated, he might be a little concerned right now…” Derek edges.

“What? Why?”

“Well… Normally the couple mating is already in the same pack by previous decision but if they’re not and one of them isn’t a wolf, or one of them is bitten, then they become part of the born wolf’s pack. So, your Alpha might not be able to feel your pack ties anymore... I could ask my mum but I don’t really want to call her in this position,” Derek mutters glumly. Because of course he hasn’t just fucked up his own life with this stupid anatomical response but he had taken Stiles from his pack without his consent, he had probably thwarted any potential relationship Stiles might have had in the future with other wolves and he had done it all in a way that meant Stiles couldn’t leave for the next few hours.

“I should call Scott,” Stiles states decidedly after a few minutes of silence. His voice is expressionless and Derek’s stomach sinks.

“Use this phone,” he offers, grabbing the house phone on his bedside table and offering it to him so they don’t have to go searching for Stiles’ things whilst still joined together.

“Thanks,” he mutters before jabbing in a number he clearly had well memorized and putting it to his ear. “Scott?”

“ _Stiles?”_ a panicked voice comes crackling over the line. “ _Oh my god are you okay?”_ they ask. And yep. Stiles and Derek are officially mated.

“I’m fine Scotty,” Stiles chuckles and Derek breathes a sigh of relief that his heart didn’t blip.

“ _I was so worried! I suddenly couldn’t feel you anymore and you weren’t picking up your phone and you always pick up the phone – well unless it’s Greenberg – but always when it’s me. What happened?”_

“It’s, uh, kinda complicated Scotty,” Stiles mumbles. “I promise I’ll tell you tomorrow but I just wanted to call and let you know I wasn’t like dead or anything.”

 _“Are you sure you’re okay Stiles?_ ” Scott doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Positive.”

“ _Well you better come over for lunch tomorrow. Or breakfast if you can. I don’t like not being able to feel you,”_ Scott huffs and guilt floods through Derek again.

“Why Scotty, you never said,” Stiles teases, hand on heart like a woman in a Western being rescued from the bandits.

“ _Shut up Stiles_ ,” Scott laughs. “ _I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“See you,” Stiles returns before the line clicks off. “Thanks,” he hands Derek back the phone. “Guess that means we’re hitched.”

“You don’t – it doesn’t have to be, not for you at least,” Derek whispers.

“I know bud, but there’s no way I’m putting you through that without at least giving it a try. I mean, something must have triggered and I kind of want to know what before I throw away something like this. Besides, the sex… that I can definitely live with,” Stiles smirks, wriggling his ass and making Derek’s cock twitch inside him.

“I just… I don’t want you to feel trapped,” Derek confesses quietly.

“Believe me dude, I never do anything I don’t want to do,” he chuckles.

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek huffs in reply.

“Whatever you say… dude,” Stiles laughs and the sound makes something settle in Derek. Something that has been restless for a long, long time. “We should probably get some sleep,” he suggests. “Goodnight Derek.”

“Goodnight Stiles,” Derek whispers into his hair, wrapping his arm around him again and pulling him close. For the first time in a long time, Derek allows himself to fall asleep with another person in his bed.

When he wakes in the morning, Derek finds the sheets in shambles and the sounds of the shower running the only indication Stiles didn’t just kept up and leave when he woke up. The panic that had flooded through Derek on the realization he was alone in the bed ebbed somewhat and receded almost entirely when Stiles appeared in the doorway, Derek’s towel hanging low on his hips.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you to ask where you kept the clean ones,” Stiles explains when he sees the wolf’s eyes on the towel.

“It’s fine, morning,” he yawns.

“Morning,” Stiles smiles, a little shy compared to the kid who had strutted into the bar last night and completely thrown Derek’s world off balance. “Here,” he disappears for a second but returns swiftly and holds out his hand towards Derek. “Put your number in it,” Stiles orders, waving what Derek now registers as his phone in his hand, and blushing steadily. Derek takes it with a shy smile of his own and enters his details – all of them, just to be sure. “I’ve got to get to Scott’s now,” Stiles explains, yanking on his boxers and too tight jeans from last night. “But I’ll text you my number and you can call if you- you know… Need anything or whatever,” Stiles finishes with a full on blush.

“Of course,” Derek nods, repressing the panic that is trying to rise up at the thought of Stiles leaving. “Let me know too… If you find anything or… whatever,” he finishes just as lamely.

“Cool,” Stiles waves awkwardly and Derek can’t take it, he reaches out a hand and snags the belt loop on Stiles’ jeans, pulling him towards the bed. “Oh… hello,” Stiles chuckles went he comes face to face with Derek.

“Hello,” Derek murmurs before sealing his lips over Stiles once more. Stiles leans into the kiss eagerly, his hands immediately going to Derek’s hair and tangling his stupid fingers in it. Neither makes the move to go beyond kissing, they just sit there in the rumpled sheets.

Eventually, and reluctantly, Stiles pulls away. “I really have to go, I promised Ally I’d be there at midday,” Stiles very almost pouts. Derek’s heart spikes: _midday_. What the hell was the time? Shit.

“I’ll see you round Stiles,” Derek smiles, pushing the panic away again.

“I keep you that,” Stiles grins, crushing his lips to Derek’s once more before jumping up and grabbing his jacket. “Bye!” he calls out when he’s halfway down the corridor.

Derek sighs and rolls over, half debating whether to just lie in the sheets that were still drenched in the scent of Stiles. Of his _mate_. But Cora would be over in seventeen minutes and he could really do without her mocking his misfortune.


	2. Two For One

    

    

    

Stiles

**Two For One**

Derek woke up restless. Cora had come over yesterday and laughed for half an hour straight when Derek had stumbled around telling her what had happened. But as funny as she evidently found it, Derek was losing sight of the humorous side rapidly. Not that he ever particularly saw one but there we go. There was an itch under his skin that he could not shake; his body temperature seemed to be on the rise and he could not for one second stand still. Cora had left in exasperation, throwing her hands up and rolling her eyes dramatically because Derek couldn’t make himself focus on what she was saying.

He was on the verge of calling Deaton – a call he knew he had to make soon anyway but really would rather put off – when there was a pounding on the door. No one in Derek’s admittedly small acquaintance was quite so obnoxious so he approached the door warily, already on edge from being so restless and unable to calm his wolf. Derek was half way across his apartment when he finally managed to get his senses under enough control to focus on his visitor and he froze mid-step before launching himself at the door and throwing it open, heart racing.

“Hey,” Stiles quirks his head to the side in greeting, the bruises Derek had left still very evident. “So I was chatting to my buddy Scott and he says that if he were you he’d be freaking out right now because when he and Allison mated, he could barely let her out of his sight for weeks, so I brought over some clothes and stuff and figured I could stay a while if you wanted,” he rushes out, blush crawling up his neck again as he awkwardly lifts the hand holding a gym back.

It takes Derek a moment to break from the near trance Stiles’ arrival had put him in and then he is dragging the younger man forcefully into his apartment and into his arms, burying his nose in his neck and inhaling deeply, the sense instantly soothing his ragged nerves. Running his hands up and down Stiles’ arms and then his back and curving around his waist, Derek attempts to leave his scent on every inch of the kid. From his neck, Derek moves to rub his nose along his jawline, nudging at the places behind the lobes of his ears where his scent is strongest.

Stiles’ sharp inhalation of breath jerks Derek from his insanity and he jumps back, releasing his hold of Stiles and flushing in mortification. However, Stiles just chuckles and reaches out to pat Derek’s head with a smirk.

“Nice to see you too buddy,” he grins, his fingers briefly curling into Derek’s hair before withdrawing. He drops the gym bag by the door, shutting it in the process before turning back to Derek. “So, how about a tour?”

“You don’t have to,” Derek blurts out despite his wolf’s firm instances that Stiles really _does_. “Stay, I mean. You don’t have to stay,” he grumbles.

“Dude, I’m not letting you suffer unnecessarily – besides, I really don’t want a crazed werewolf on my hands,” he snorts.

“I told you not to call me dude,” Derek snipes in return but without any real heat.

“Yeah, yeah, _tour_ ,” Stiles insists. “If I’m going to be chilling here for a few days, I want to know my way around – have you got secret dungeon or something I should know about?” he asks with poorly concealed excitement.

“If I did, it would be secret and therefore I wouldn’t tell you about it,” Derek snorts. “There’s not much to show really, this is the living space,” he gestures around the large room they’re standing in, a worn sofa, armchair, coffee table and TV set to one side and the kitchen units to the other. A bookcase runs the length of one wall and a large window that reaches almost from floor to ceiling breaks up the far wall. “You, uh, know where my room is,” Derek points to the door but Stiles is already darting forward to go in.

“I barely had time to take it in in daylight,” Stiles confesses, nosing around Derek’s room, picking up a book or trinket here and there and Derek should really be annoyed but his wolf is overjoyed at the way Stiles is leaving a little of his scent on everything he touches in Derek’s den. Whenever he gets within touching distance – which, considering Derek is following him as he jumps about the room, is pretty often – Derek cannot resist reaching out a touching him. Just a brief graze of his fingers over Stiles’ shoulder, a gentle nudge of his elbow, a bump to the hip.

Stiles is in the middle of gushing about the ‘wickedness’ of Derek’s view when a noise sounds from the adjacent room that sends Derek back into a frenzy. Stiles freezes for a moment before turning around slowly to face him.

“Derek…” he says hesitantly. “What is that?”

“Its… Stiles I can explain-” Derek immediately goes on the defensive but is cut off when the sound comes again and he panics, flailing in a manner far more suited to Stiles than to him.

“Derek…” Stiles repeats but he is already half way across the room, opening the door to where the noise is coming from. Derek’s heart beat spikes as he throws himself after Stiles. “Derek… Is that…?” Stiles half asks as he stops over the source of the noise, answering his own lingering question. “A baby,” he breathes so softly Derek would not have been able to catch it save for his enhanced hearing.

Time seems to stop as Stiles leans over the cot and watches the tiny figure thrust his legs in the air and wail again. Derek can barely see through the panic – what if his mate rejects his cub.

“Is he yours?” Stiles asks, voice emotionless once more. It’s a sound Derek is already beginning to hate. He just nods. “Derek… do you have a _wife_?” he asks, horror seeping into his words.

“ _What_? No!” Derek denies.

“Then…” Stiles turns back to look down at the baby. Oh god, what if he doesn’t like him, what if they don’t like each other? What if Stiles thinks he’s too young to be a father? What if-

“His name’s Boyd,” Derek manages. “His mother bailed when he was born,” he tacks on without elaborating – that was perhaps a conversation for another day. And then Boyd lets out another heart-wrenching wail but before Derek can so much as step towards him, Stiles is reaching into the cot and picking him up with practiced ease.

“Hey little man,” Stiles coos as Derek’s wolf practically purrs with content at the sight of his mate and his cub. “Do you need some attention,” he asks, bouncing Boyd gently and soothing out the wailing. “How old is he?”

Is takes a moment for Derek to realise the last question was directed at him. “Seventeen months,” he smiles. Stiles snorts at the precision. “He’s not very chatty though,” Derek confesses, frowning at the toddler in his mate’s arms.

“That’s alright mister man,” Stiles jiggles him. “We can still have some fun – can’t we Derek, where are his toys?” Stiles grins.

“In the living room,” Derek smiles, leading the way out the other door and back into the living space. “There’s a box of stuff over there,” he points to the crate over by the couch. “You, uh, you don’t-”

“Have to?” Stiles finishes for him. “Please stop saying that, I’m here willingly and I’m going to spend the next few hours chilling with this little man while you fix us up a snack and when it’s time for his next nap we’re going to have a very grown up conversation about withholding important information,” Stiles smirks, heading over the crate and settling Boyd down on the carpet next to him. Derek blushes but nods and heads over the to kitchen space to do as Stiles told him.

When Derek returns to the living area with a tray loaded with grapes and cheese and crackers and the like, and two glasses and Boyd’s beaker filled with milk, Stiles is sprawled out on the floor with Boyd piling building bricks on his stomach and cackling every time they fall down – no doubt due to Stiles’ tactful wiggles every now and then. Derek’s heart melts.

Eventually, Boyd notices his Papa standing there and throws a brick in his general direction to get his attention. Stiles turns then too, absentmindedly pulling Boyd into his lap as he sits up. “Come on little man, it’s snack time,” Stiles grins, bouncing Boyd slightly and reaching out for the plate Derek hands him. He can do nothing but watch, transfixed, as Stiles feeds a giggling Boyd, a completely unforced smile on his own face. “So…” Stiles begins, pausing to make airplane noises with a bit of cheese Boyd is after. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I, um… I’m thirty-one, a Beta wolf – born – my pack lives in the area but I don’t see them as often as I should. It’s really just me and Boyd against the world,” Derek confesses quietly. “I’m an architect, currently between projects; my favourite colour is green; I hate couscous-” he pauses as Stiles lets out a quick burst of laughter, “-I don’t do relationships very well; I really want a cat; I have no idea how to handle any of this and Boyd is currently drooling on your shirt,” he finishes with a snort as Boyd chuckles. Stiles squawks in protests, running a thumb under Boyd’s mouth to catch the escaping saliva and Derek’s wolf gives another content rumble.

“Well… My name is Stiles Stilinski. I am an Ariese. I like long walks in the preserve and frisky bedfellows,” he smirks.

“You’re also a fan of Supernatural by the sounds of it,” Derek mutters and is rewarded with a blinding grin from Stiles for getting his reference before his face turns suddenly serious.

“I’m twenty-five, trying to finish my thesis, just moved into a new place I don’t really like, life is stressful, my dad needs to retire, I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted over two months, I haven’t entirely grown out of my ADHD, I occasionally suffer from anxiety – so, all in all, you picked a pretty shitty choice of mate,” he finishes gruffly.

Derek’s heart aches as he watches Stiles’ closed off expression. There was more behind it, he could tell, but Stiles obviously didn’t want to share it so he left it be. Reaching out a hand, Derek entwines his fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Stiles neck and pulls his head to face him.

“Stiles…” he manages to get out before Boyd decides to be uncharacteristically chatty and interrupts him.

“Sitty,” he grins. “Sitty,” he repeats, tugging on Stiles shirt to get his attention again.

“Oh god, please don’t tell me I’ve taught your kid to swear,” Stiles groans.

“ _Sitty_ ,” Boyd giggles. Derek has to resist the urge to giggle a little himself, instead opting to mime sipping his lips shut at Stiles.

“Well, you got him to say _something_ which is more than I can normally manage,” Derek offers, running a hand over Boyd’s head.

“ _Derek_! I’ve taught him to say _shitty_ – how is that a good thing?” Stiles hisses.

“Sitty!” Boyd outright laughs as Stiles groans again.

“This is a disaster,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be an idiot, he’s one, we can teach him other words and hopefully he’ll forget it – or at the very least not ever pronounce it properly,” Derek chuckles.

“ _You-_ ” Stiles jabs his finger at Derek, “are far too nice.”

“I’m really not,” Derek snorts. “I’m grumpy, anti-social, rude when I don’t even mean to be and if I get less than five hours sleep you don’t want to talk to me. Or so I’ve been told – my sisters are very adamant about that last one.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t really socialize much anymore so when I do I tend to fuck it up. I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment and its making me kinda grouchy,” Stiles confesses. “I didn’t used to be this shitty”

“ _Sitty_!” Boyd echoes, grinning again and making Stiles groan in despair and Derek let out a small chuckle. They stay silent for a while, while Derek decides how best to reply.

“I know you said that you don’t do things unless you want to, and that you you’re here willingly,” Derek eventually settles on. “But if it’s too much – if you have other places you need to be or whatever – you really don’t have to. I want you to, don’t get me wrong – but I _will_ be fine if you need to go,” he promises, however reluctant he is to actually see Stiles leave. His wolfish instincts have already fucked things up; he’s not going to take anything more from Stiles if he can help it.

“I know,” Stiles finally replies and his heart doesn’t skip a beat so Derek knows he truly _does_ understand what Derek is saying. “But in all honestly – being here is kind of a relief. And I know that makes me a horrible person for even _thinking_ it but I just need a bit of a break,” he confesses and his expression is so open and raw for a moment that Derek’s wolf whines.

“Sitty…?” Boyd blinks up at them, sensing the tension and sadness that thickens the air.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Stiles groans before tugging Boyd back onto his lap and making more airplane noises with the food, a clear indication that this conversation is over.

And Derek knows Stiles isn’t telling him something. Derek knows there’s more to it than just this thesis and worries about his dad. Derek knows there’s more causing the shadows under Stiles’ eyes than he’s letting on. But Derek also knows that he can’t ask. He knows Stiles will tell him when – _if_ – he wants to.

So instead of reply, instead of telling Stiles that it’s okay, that everyone needs a break sometimes, he tells him where his records are and informs him that while Boyd doesn’t say much, he has some awesome moves that he likes to crack out.

“Sweet dude,” Stiles whistles as he fingers through Derek’s collection, his sour mood vanished without a trace. “Your kid has good taste.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek rolls his eyes, clearing away the plate and glasses from their snack. “And I wouldn’t be so quick to judge – his favourite is _I Want It All_ by Queen. I’m not really sure I want to know what that says about him as a person.”

“ _Dude_! That’s one of my favourites!” Stiles squeals and a few seconds later Derek can here the familiar words coming out of the speakers and Boyd’s delighted shriek. When he turns to look over his shoulder, Stiles and Boyd are both stamping and waving their arms around in some very strange sort of dance. Stiles, needless to say, knows all the words and sings along, to Boyd’s absolute glee. Derek rolls his eyes but the smile on his faces last for hours afterwards.

And so the afternoon passes: Derek watching on as Stiles dances around with Boyd, Boyd demanding attention from both adults, the occasional squeal of ‘ _sitty’_ , Stiles mentioning random facts about himself – Batman was his inspiration in life; curly fries were his life-source; he is actually on the Beacon Hills police force but wants to finish his masters and become a detective; he hates cauliflower; he owns two cats which his best friend hates – the list goes on and Derek sometimes returns with facts about himself.  The restless urges Derek had been feeling that morning (and if he was being honest, ever since Stiles had left the previous morning) had vanished and he was more settled that he had been in a long time. He realized with a start that he kind of missed the noise and bustle of having someone else share his living space. He was the third of four children and therefore used to having people around his constantly when he was growing up – and his family wasn’t exactly quiet to begin with, let alone the monthly case of wolfishness.

“Burgers or steak?” Derek asks.

“Uh… steak?” Stiles blushes hesitantly.

“Why?” Derek raises an eyebrow as Stiles scratch the back of his neck in what Derek is coming to realise is a sign of discomfort or embarrassment.

“Dude… I am a seriously messy eater,” he confesses on an exhale. “Like _seriously_. Lyds says I shouldn’t _ever_ eat burgers in front of someone that I am even remotely interested in if I want to stand a chance,” he rushes, blush curling up the back of his neck.

“Are you interested in me?” Derek can’t stop the words from pouring out and feels himself flush. Stiles gives him a ‘well _duh_ ’ look that has Derek’s insides squirming. He is in way over his head. And he should really be far more terrified than he is. In fact, he should actually _be_ terrified. But he’s not. Not even the slightest bit. And that in itself should scare him. But something about Stiles just makes him… _not_.

“Burgers it is,” he decides with a smirk and Stiles whimpers a little.

“Dude, I’m serious! It’s not attractive – not even cute!” Stiles protests.

“Don’t call me dude,” is all Derek has to say, mind already decided.

As it turns out, Stiles was not kidding. The mess he makes as he devours his burger is really quite remarkable and Derek has to admit he is a little impressed. Stiles had been so hesitant at first; trying to take small, tidy bites until Derek had smirked at him. After that, Stiles seemed to decide to prove himself right and lost any sort of control he had had before.

“These are amazing,” he mumbles around a mouthful (well several mouthfuls really). Derek laughs at him and is rewarded with a lettuce leaf to his forehead. “No, seriously, these are possibly the second best burgers I have ever eaten.”

“Only second best?” Derek smirks.

“Only second best – my friend’s mum makes the most amazing burgers in the entire universe! But these come freakishly close.”

“I’ll have to work on it then. You should try my mum’s burgers one day, _they_ are the best burgers in the entire universe,” Derek chuckles before catching sigh of Stiles face and realizing what he had just said. “I mean- I- Maybe… One day?” he trails off. Of course he had to bring up meeting the parents. Because Derek likes to put it foot in it with someone he has known less than a week but who seems to be making a little niche in Derek’s like that he is not sure he will ever be able to fill again if Stiles leaves. Which _really_ should scare him.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Stiles mutters after a moment of awkward silence.

“Uh… In all honest? It doesn’t feel weird,” Derek confesses. “Not for me a least,” he shrugs.

“But that’s my _point_ ,” Stiles insists, dropping his burger on his plate so he can wave his hands around. “This _should_ feel weird, but it _doesn’t_ , which _makes_ it weird! If that even makes any sense.”

“I… Yeah, yeah it makes sense,” Derek nods.

“This should be weird Derek. I’ve known you for like _two days_. This should be weird – playing with your kid all day, eating _burgers_ in front of you, talking about meeting your _parents_! This should definitely be weird.”

“Does it feel weird? To you?” he can’t help but ask.

“ _No_ ,” Stiles replies forcefully. “But it _should_.”

“It should,” Derek agrees. “But it doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Stiles… If we’re going too fast, we can slow it down, maybe just meet up for lunch or something?” Derek suggests a little reluctantly.

“I know that,” he snorts. “But the thing is, I don’t _want_ to. I don’t want to slow it down or whatever. I kind of feel like I’ve been doing this with you forever and I actually kind of _like_ it. This is so fucked up in so many ways and I can’t believe I just swore in front of your kid _again_ and I know this isn’t always going to be so ease even though it kind of feels like it _could_ be…”

“I know Stiles,” Derek smiles softly, his insides a little gooey at the idea that Stiles feels the same way he does. “Why don’t we just… see where it goes,” he shrugs.

“Yeah… Okay, yeah,” he nods. “I’d like that.”

“Good, now finish your burger,” he orders with a smirk.

Two hours later finds Boyd tucked up and fast asleep and the adults curled up on the sofa watching Wolverine. (“Of _course_ you have this film,” Stiles had laughed.) They are not really touching, save for where their feet meet in the middle of the sofa but Derek has never been more aware of anyone else’s body save for Boyd’s (and that was just parental instinct). Their breathing had synchronized within the first ten minutes of the film and in all honesty, Derek was paying far more attention to Stiles than what was happening on the screen.

He wasn’t quite the kid he remembered from the bar – it was almost like that kid was just a version of Stiles, a persona he would put on when he went out. Derek wondered how many personas Stiles had. It was not a bad thing necessarily; Derek knew he acted differently depending on where he was or who he was with. He was one man when he was with just Boyd, another with the rest of his family and another with strangers. And, it seemed, another with Stiles.

Here, tucked up against the side of the couch, eyes fixed on the screen, Stiles was differently. Quieter, less extroverted, calmer. Derek found himself liking this version just as much had he had liked the version he had met at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,” Stiles suddenly confesses, eyes still not leaving the screen.

“Huh?” is all Derek can manage.

“This movie – I’ve seen it a shitload of times but right now I have absolutely no idea what’s happening,” he snorts.

“How come?” Derek frowns.

Then Stiles is darting across the sofa, abruptly dumping himself in Derek’s lap. “Why do you think,” he smirks, hands fisting in Derek’s shirt and Derek is convinced he had never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life. “Hello,” he purrs.

“Hi,” Derek chokes.

“Were you ever planning on touching me,” Stiles breathes, readjusting himself slightly on Derek’s lap in a way that sends heady shivers rocketing through Derek’s body. Before he can work up the needed brainpower to respond, Stiles’ lips are on his. Stiles is just as hot and Derek is just as desperate as they were the first time and _fuck_ if Stiles can’t take him apart with that mouth.

Hands move from Derek’s shirt into his hair, entangling fingers and yanking him back to expose his neck. And it should make him uncomfortable really, baring his throat to another person. But it doesn’t. Because it’s Stiles. And _fuck_ that is his tongue licking up his tendon.

“Stiles,” Derek chokes out helplessly.

The first time, Derek had been in control. The first time, Stiles was the one begging and pleading and whimpering. The first time, it was Derek who took Stiles apart. This time… this time it is Derek turn to come completely undone.

“Need you,” he gasps when Stiles scrapes his teeth over the junction of his shoulder. “Need you,” he repeats as Stiles does his best to make a lasting mark of Derek’s permanently healing skin. “Need you,” he begs when Stiles grinds down in his lap.

“You’ve got me,” is the reply Stiles murmurs when Derek keens desperately in his ear.

Derek doesn’t remember the last time he was so breathless from just a kiss. If he ever was. Stiles seems to be able to take him apart in a way that no one else ever has before. Overwhelmed, Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and pulls him flush against his body, burying his faces in the crook of Stiles neck and earning himself an amused chuckle from the man in his lap. Unable to reach Derek’s skin with his mouth when positioned like this, Stiles runs his fingers through his hair instead, gently beginning to rock against him and _fuck_ the friction is amazing.

Derek moans brokenly when Stiles thrusts particularly hard against him, causing his jeans to scrape across his dick almost painfully. Hands go to Stiles’ shirt, tugging at it until Stiles gives in and lifts his hands above his head so Derek can pull the offensive garment off. Then Derek attacks Stiles’ jeans, desperately trying to get the zip down so he can _touch._

“Woah, steady on big guy,” Stiles chuckles and Derek panics. Stiles doesn’t want him. He’s taking this too fast. He’s going to frighten Stiles away. “Hey, hey calm down. I want to do this. Believe me, I _want_ to do this,” Stiles is quick to reassure him, clearing seeing the terror written across Derek’s face. “I just want to make sure _you’re_ okay with doing this, because I did kinda dump myself in your house and I honestly didn’t have any expectations, so don’t feel like you _owe_ me or anything stupid, okay?”

Derek sort of stares at him uncomprehendingly. Stiles didn’t think _Derek wanted to do this?_ Of _course_ Derek wants to do this. But of course, Derek could not quite find the words to express this to Stiles and only manages to give out a slight growl when Stiles shifts awkwardly in his lap.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles giggles. _Giggles_. “No need to look like I just stole Christmas! I was just making sure.” Because Stiles can apparently read Derek’s facial expressions as easily as if he had spoken the words aloud and that should definitely worry Derek because no one has ever understood him like that but _it is Stiles_. And somehow that makes it okay. “Also, I just wanted to check whether that _thing_ ,” he wiggles slightly on Derek’s crotch, “will get stuck again? Because as lovely as it was – and really, _it was_ – I’m not really in the mood for another three hours of lying uncomfortably again. Also, what happens if there’s an emergency? What if Boyd starts crying? What if the _fire alarm goes off_?” he whispers the last bit in horror, no doubt at the idea of having to waddle out of the building joint at the crotch with Derek and scaring the old ladies that live in this building straight into the grave.

“Boyd’ll be fine, the fire alarm never goes off and what other kind of emergency could there possibly be?” Derek sighs, his bonner getting uncomfortable in its denim prison. “Besides, it shouldn’t happen _every_ time.”

“Derek, dude, it shouldn’t have happened the _first_ time,” Stiles points out and yeah, he has a point. It really should not have happened the first time because Derek doesn’t have the sort of deep, emotional bond with Stiles that could – _should_ – lead to a knot.

“Fine,” Derek huffs.

“Hey, quit looking like I’m giving you blue balls dude!” Stiles rushes to say.

“Quit calling me _dude_ ,” Derek retorts.

“I was going to suggest a compromise,” Stiles smirks. “How about…” he trails off, scooting backwards and off of Derek’s lap. Whining slightly, Derek tries to protest, wanting Stiles back _now_. That is, until Stiles slips to his knees between Derek’s legs.

“Oh,” is all he manages to get out as Stiles undoes his zip and taps at his hips to get him to lift them so he can pull Derek’s jeans and boxers out of the way. Derek is not sure he can look at Stiles like this without blowing his load before he can even get his sinful mouth on him. But he forces himself to glance down, only to meet Stiles’ molten amber eyes and there is no way in heaven or hell he can bring himself to look away again.

Stiles simply breathes him in, running his nose along Derek’s dick without breaking eye contact for even a second. “Look at you,” he whispers in awe before taking Derek into his mouth and _sweetmotherofmoses!_ Stiles’ mouth was _hot_ and _wet_ and _fuck_ Derek was close to coming like a high-schooler losing his virginity. His lips were pulled taught around Derek’s dick and if that wasn’t the most glorious thing Derek had ever seen. And he just kept going, lowering himself further and further into Derek’s leaking cock. Just taking it when Derek lost control and thrust up into that tight, hot mouth.

Derek’s hands flew from where they had been gripping the couch to Stiles’ head, entwining his fingers the mess of soft hair. This was too much. _Stiles_ was too much. He tugged sharply, not knowing whether he wanted Stiles to stop or to push him further down. Either way, the sensation made Stiles moan helplessly around his cock, sending vibrations through his entire body. Derek still couldn’t look away, Stiles’ eyes were watering now but fixed on Derek’s with a determined lust and something else that Derek couldn’t afford to think about right now.

“Stiles,” he cried, fisting his hair. This time, when Stiles moaned, Derek could not hold back any longer. Thrusting twice more into the hot cavern of Stiles’ mouth, Derek felt his release building, swelling, burning… Wait, _what_?

Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not when Stiles specifically didn’t want to be joined to Derek. Not that he had the first time. _Fuck. His. Life._

Then all thoughts vanished from Derek’s mind as teeth scraped ever so slightly over his swelling knot and the sensation was more than he could take, coming in ropes down Stiles’ throat and still not breaking his gaze away from the debauched looking man between his legs. When he is done and his knot is firmly lodged in the back of Stiles’ mouth, it takes Derek a few minutes to truly comprehend the situation and finally he blinks the sated drowsiness from his eyes and looks down and Stiles in utter mortification.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly, certain that he has now blown any vague chance he ever had with Stiles in the long run. “I’m so sorry.”

There is some shuffling on the floor and a moment later, Stiles pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and begins typing over where he is currently attached to Derek. He types for a while, then a frown creases his forehead and he deletes it all before typing something much shorter and turning the phone for Derek to be able to see.

**_It’s actually kinda hot_ **

Derek almost chokes on his breath when he reads it, glancing back down to really study Stiles. The sight that greets him now that he really looks is devastatingly hot. Stiles is still buried in Derek’s crotch with his dick lodged in his throat and his eyes are watery around the edges but _fuck_ his pupils are blown so wide there is only a thin rim of glistening amber surrounding them. Stiles doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look annoyed.

He looks fucking _wrecked_.

Derek can’t help but jerk at the sight and if he really had been the high-schooler he felt like earlier, he has no doubt in his mind that he would be getting hard again already. Stiles doesn’t even flinch, just moans sinfully around his dick as his eyes roll backwards slightly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek curses, running his thumbs over Stiles’ jaw and down his throat where he can _feel_ his fucking dick. “You must have the most amazing gag reflex,” he snorts absentmindedly. Stiles picks up his phone from where it was resting on Derek’s stomach and begins typing again.

**_Took years of practice ;)_ **

Derek doesn’t even realise it was him that growled until he sees Stiles’ eyebrow try to reach his hairline. Apparently Derek’s wolf is not overly happy with the idea of Stiles with other men. Because jealousy is exactly what this situation needed to make it better. Stiles just snorts though and edits his message.

**_With popsicles!_ **

And Derek swears he hasn’t laughed so hard in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is so self indulgent it't unreal. Come check me out and pester me on [tumblr](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/).


	3. Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever but I got stuck about halfway through and ended up sending them to the park. So here, have a chapter whilst I'm pretending to revise.

    

    

    

Cora

**Rude Awakening**

Derek awakes with a start as something – the bedroom door he later realises – makes a horrendous banging sound. Shooting out of the bed and morphing into beta-form subconsciously, he snaps his head around in search of the threat. His eyes fall on the bed first, where Stiles is hurriedly scrambling for the sheets in order to cover himself, before snapping up to meet the eyes of the intruder.

Cora is the intruder.

Wait… _What is Cora doing here?_ His hands jump to cover his exposed junk not out of any real modesty but more because they associate Cora with _pain_. But really, what is she doing here? And _why does she look so shocked?_ Cora’s eyes dart from Derek standing in all his glory, covering his junk and slowly morphing back to his human features, to Stiles, half sat up in the bed with the sheets clutched to his chest looking mildly like he had seen a ghost. Cora herself, looks entirely stunned and for a while, no one says anything.

And then she laughs. Not just her customary snicker of a light chuckle. Nope. A full on, I-think-I’m-about-to-pee-myself _laugh_. Derek just stands there motionless, staring at his sister like she is growing a second head. That is, until he senses Stiles turning his head towards him, eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline.

“You’re one of _the Hales_?” he accuses, eyes incredulously wide. _Huh_? Derek’s brain short-circuits because _what is going on?_

“Oh my god,” Cora gasps, wiping _actual tears_ from her eyes and sucking in a lungful of air before doubling over once more. “Oh my _god_ ,” she repeats, valiantly trying to regain control. “You mated _Stilinski_?” is what she finally manages to get out.

“Uh…” _What?_ It’s too early in the morning for this shit, Derek decides. “I don’t understand.”

That, of course, makes not only Cora double up again but causes Stiles to snigger into the sheets he’s pulled up around himself. The two of them look from him to each other and only laugh harder. Derek is definitely missing something.

“Wait… _you two know each other_?” he finally clicks.

Cora laughs even harder but Stiles throws his head back against the pillows and exclaims dramatically: “The _burgers_!”

“The what?” Derek frowns. Really. Too early.

“I should’ve known from the _burgers_!” Stiles explains. Or what to him is probably an explanation but in reality just confuses Derek even more. “And the eyebrows. Dead give away. And the leather probably… And the ‘ _I could rip your throat out with me teeth’_ vibe you guys give off… Oh and the _werewolf thing_ ,” he rolls his eyes and slaps a hand to his forehead. “How did I _miss it_? It’s so _obvious_.”

“I don’t understand the burgers,” Derek says dumbly. In all honestly, he understood none of it but his brain is still trying to process what burgers have to do with this situation.

“You’re burgers are only second best to _my friend’s mum_ ,” he tells Derek again as if that clears everything up. When Derek clearly doesn’t get it, he waves jerkily at where Cora is still trying to control her breathing. _Oh_. Cora is the friend. So that must mean _his_ mum. Stiles likes his mum’s burgers. Yes that makes sense. Of course he should have figured it all out.

“Oh my god,” Cora repeats once more. “This is amazing. You two put some clothes on while I go and grab the Hulk and then you can tell me all about it – well not _all_ cause there’s some stuff I just don’t need to know ab-”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupts. “The Hulk is _Boyd_?”

“Boyd is not a hulk,” Derek practically pouts.

“Boyd is the Hulk,” Cora smirks.

“You talk about the Hulk all the time!” Stiles exclaims as if he has been betrayed. “Why did you never mention _daddy Hulk_?”

“Please tell me you did not just say that,” Cora winces. “Just put some clothes on. Seriously. I’m hungry and Derek’s making French toast.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

And so Stiles walks into the kitchen a quarter of an hour later, his hair still damp from the shower, to find Derek at the stove once more and Cora playing some sort of game involving grapes and no rules with Boyd at the table. Now that he sees them together, it really is amazing that he missed it. He has known Cora since high school, when Scott was bitten she sort of kept an eye on him until Stiles had pestered her to the point she reluctantly became friends with them. He knows she secretly loves them though and was grateful that they had not shied away from her somewhat terrifying personality like most people were prone to do. Vaguely, in the back of his mind somewhere, he had known she had an older brother but he had heard barely anything about him so hadn’t given him much thought. Of course, as luck would have it, one of the few things he didn’t actively pursue knowledge of is the one person who ends up accidentally knotting and mating him during what was supposed to be a one-night stand. Funny how life turns out, isn’t it.

Grabbing Boyd’s favourite mug from the cupboard – and seriously, when did he learn that was Boyd’s favourite mug? – and the milk from the fridge, Stiles sets about getting Boyd an actual breakfast. He sets the mug down in front of the one year old and finds himself absently running his fingertips over Derek’s lower back as he passes him to get the cereal and a bowl.

“Stiles could you pass me the… thanks,” Derek smiles, taking the proffered spatula and flipping over the French toast. “The spoon’s in the dishwasher,” he adds as Stiles pulls open the cutler draw.

“Thanks,” Stiles mutters, turning to the dishwasher instead to retrieve Boyd’s spoon. “Here you go buddy,” he grins, depositing the cheerios and spoon in front of the little man. It’s only then that he realises Cora is staring at him – well at _them_ – with her jaw hanging on the hinge. “What?” he huffs self-consciously. She snaps her mouth shut and shakes her head, half in answer and half to shake herself from her thoughts.

“Stiles,” Derek calls behind him, oblivious to Cora’s bafflement. Stiles turns and grabs the plates from the cupboard and – _oh_. They were so _domestic_. Derek didn’t even have to _specify_ what he wanted. Stiles just _knew_.

Seeming to sense that Stiles had paused, Derek let out a small sound, so quiet Stiles only heard it because it was meant for him. It wasn’t a whine, not quite. More of a faint huff, a recognition of something being up with Stiles and a means of asking him if he was alright and quite frankly Stiles is a little terrified he managed to ascertain all of that from a sound that he probably wouldn’t have picked up two days ago. It was, however, enough to jolt him out of his shock and to grab three plates.

“So…” Cora begins once they are all sat around the breakfast bar, Derek’s knee resting against Stiles’ thigh. “Last I heard, Derek was a moping mess because the guy he had just mated had up and left. Apparently he didn’t see fit to update me,” she narrows her eyes at her brother who just rolls his in return.

“You _told_ her?” Stiles blurts out the question that had been building in his mind since his shower. Derek didn’t really seem like the sharing type.

“Mum could sense we had a new pack members and Derek was the only one unaccounted for, she almost came straight over in the middle of the night but dad managed to persuade her that might not be the best idea,” she snorts. “I popped in for breakfast with Boyd and mum practically pounced on me for information. Of course, I was as baffled as her,” she raises a pointed eyebrow at Derek.

Boyd squeals and Stiles only just managed to catch his chubby fists before they land in the remains of the milk in his bowl. Derek passes him the cheerios for him to top Boyd up before his attention turns to Cora, who is smirking at them both.

“ _Anyway_ ,” she continues. “When I came to drop Boyd off, Derek was already pacing like a lunatic-”

“I am technically a lunatic,” Derek cuts her off.

“Haha, very funny Mr. Wolfman.” Stiles snorts. “Now shut up I want to listen to you angst-ing over me,” he winks and Derek pulls a face.

“As I was _saying_ , Derek was pacing and muttering frantically under his breath and practically pounced on Boyd the second we arrived, which isn’t _too_ far from the ordinary but I could tell he was doing it more for comfort than usual so combined with mum’s senses and the lack of another person in the apartment I short of assumed he had done something incredibly stupid.”

“What you did was sit me down and demand to know where my mate was,” Derek snorts. “Just jumped straight to the conclusion I had done something to make them run.”

“Well I wasn’t _too_ far from the truth, was I?” she snipes. “Besides, we all thought you had been seeing someone behind our backs for years and had somehow managed to hide it from us! The truth, as it turned out was _so much better,_ ” she cackles, punctuating each of the last three words. “There was D, looking completely lost and panicked and when I asked him about his mate it was just – _It was an accident Cor!_ ”

“And you _laughed_ ,” Derek accuses.

“It was _funny_ ,” Cora retorts.

“Hilarious.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” she repeats. “What I want to know is how it went from _that_ to _this_ ,” she waves a hand between Stiles and Derek with a faint smirk and although her tone is teasing, Stiles can see the seriousness and almost _wonder_ in her eyes.

“Well,” Stiles starts. “After I left this gorgeous hunk to mope in his apartment, I went over to Scotty’s and told him the whole _glorious_ story in _far_ more detail than I’m sure he wanted,” he chuckles as Derek gives off a low growl. “And he politely informed me to ‘ _get your fucking ass back there Stiles, oh my god he’s probably clawing his eyeballs out, holy shit I thought you were meant to be the intelligent one_ ’. Bless him, he practically _shoved_ me out of the house!”

“And you came straight back here?” Cora raises an eyebow.

“I came straight back here,” Stiles agrees, grinning at Derek.

“So where’s Eric-”

“Would you like some coffee?” Stiles cuts Cora off, standing up and grabbing the plates. “Derek’s fancy machine is just begging to actually be used,” he chuckles.

“Hey!” Derek protests. “I use it all the time, I just know how to _clean_ it.”

“Derek you can see your reflection in it! Allison’s wasn’t even that clean when she _bought_ it!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous for buying a coffee machine you don’t even use!”

“I do use it!”

“Well you must be using it wrong because no coffee machine that is well loved should be that clean!”

“Wow,” Cora deadpans.

“Shut up,” Derek and Stiles retort in unison.

“Holy shit you sound like mum and dad already,” she laughs, making a Stiles flush bright red and Derek to aim his fork at where his plate had been before Stiles had grabbed it, looking very confused about where it had vanished to.

“As I was saying, would anyone like some coffee?” Stiles repeats quieter, ignoring the calculating gaze Cora is sending his way.

“Yes please,” Derek smiles and Cora nods her head briefly.

“Good.”

By the time coffee is served and the dishes cleaned up and put away, Boyd is being fussy and Derek takes him to his room to change his diaper, leaving Stiles and Cora alone in the kitchen. The silence lasts for only a few drawn out moments before Cora leans towards him.

“So, as I was saying before you cut me off, what are you doing with Er-”

“Cora _please_ ,” Stiles whispers.

“Stiles I – _wait._ Are you trying to tell me Derek doesn’t _know_?” she hisses.

“Cora you can’t-” Stiles begs with wide eyes just as Derek comes back into the room, bouncing Boyd on his hip.

“Hey D, I better be off or Cam is going to panic,” she smiles, getting up and finishing the last drags of her coffee.

“He’s gotten very overprotective of you suddenly,” Derek eye’s narrow and Cora’s only response is to smirk. “Cora…” he states warningly but she ignores him.

“You had better be at dinner on Sunday or mum’s will flip her shit, you’ve missed the last two Derek,” she warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters.

“Oooh! And bring Stiles! Stiles you have to come!” she orders, turning her attention back to the younger man. “You already know everyone, it’ll be fun! Besides they’re all _dying_ to know who Derek mated!” she grins evil and Stiles feels a shiver of dread.

“Cora,” Derek whines.

“Shut up D,” she laughs. “I’ll see you Sunday.” And with that she darts towards the door, only pausing to grab her bag and shoot Stiles a pointed look, mouthing ‘tell him’ before vanishing out the apartment. Stiles drains the last of his coffee.

~X~

Derek knows there is something wrong. He knows that this peaceful domesticity he and Stiles have sunken into cannot last. He had heard Cora, asking about an Eric. Had seen the way Stiles had cut her off so abruptly and dragged him into an argument about the coffee machine. He had let him. Had not wanted this bliss to end. He had heard Cora asking again whilst he was changing Boyd and he had heard the way Stiles practically begged her not to tell him. Stiles was hiding something. Someone. Someone named Eric.

What if Stiles already had someone? This Eric person. What if he was already in a committed relationship and was just using Derek for a bit of fun on the side? What if he was _married_? The possibilities swirl in his mind, unsettling him further. He _knew_ Stiles was hiding something from him. The way he always checked his phone when he thought Derek wasn’t looking, or the way he avoided certain topics like his family in any great detail. And the worse part was: Derek couldn’t _fault_ him. Stiles owed him _nothing_. They had only known each other for less than four days. They probably never would have spoken again if Derek’s anatomy hadn’t decided to step in. Yes, if Stiles was cheating that was wrong, but it wasn’t _Derek_ who he was cheating _on_. It was Derek who he was cheating _with_.

“Alright grumpy guts,” Stiles’ voice jerks him from his thoughts and he almost splashes soppy water everywhere. “Out with it, what’s eating you?” he continues, grabbing a drying towel. Derek knows he should ask. Should bring it up and leave Stiles with the decision of whether to lie to his face or not but he just _can’t_.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “I think I’m just feeling a little cooped up in here.”

“You need space?” is Stiles’ instant question because _of course_ he thinks he is invading Derek’s space.

“Not from you,” Derek smiles softly, reaching out and grabbing Stiles hand. Stiles smiles shyly, squeezing it a little before leaning forward and pressing the faintest of kisses against Derek’s lips. The wolf practically melts, all thoughts of confronting Stiles flee from his mind as his scent fills his airways and makes him heady.

“Let’s get out of here then,” Stiles suggests when he pulls away. “We can take Boyd to the park and feed the ducks! You’ve got some grapes lying around right? Because you know you’re not actually suppose to feed ducks bread – its like junk food for them. Grapes are a great alternative, we just need to cut them in half so the ducks don’t choke on them,” Stiles rambles and Derek cuts him off with another light press of his lips.

“Sounds fanatic,” he murmurs. “You want to cut the grapes whilst I get Boyd ready?” he suggests and Stiles nods eagerly, already pulling the grapes out the fridge and grabbing a knife from the rack. Once again Derek is hit by how at home Stiles is in his kitchen, like he’s always been there and plans to stay there as long as he possibly can.

Half an hour later finds the three of them ready to go, Boyd in his pushchair with the grapes tucked in a bag under-neither. Stiles helps Derek maneuver the pushchair into the lift and the small space means he has to press up against Derek’s back for the short journey down. Derek is almost relieved Boyd is there as an instant boner-killer or else god only know what he would have done.

The park is only a ten-minute walk down the road from Derek’s apartment block but with Stiles chatting away excitedly beside him, it flies by even faster than usual. It’s a warm California day in late June and even Derek is sweating a little by the time they get there. Boyd looks a little grumpy but cheers up considerably when Stiles picks him up and points towards the ducks. It’s midweek but school is out for the summer and the park is flooded with children of all ages, with their friends and families trailing along behind them.

Parking the pushchair under one of the trees, Derek claims the little patch of shade and sat down. Whilst Stiles had been cutting grapes and trying to sneak some to Boyd behind his back, Derek had packed a small picnic of sandwiches, bananas and crisps which he now pulls out and opens just as Stiles comes over with Boyd in his arms.

“Look, Papa made us a picnic little man,” Stiles coos in Boyd’s ear, making him squirm and giggle in delight. He somehow manages to sit down gracefully without letting Boyd fall and proceeds to open a bag of crisps. Derek stares at him in disgust. “What?” he asks, his mouth full.

“Those are for _after_ the sandwiches and fruit,” Derek protests.

“Oh god, you’re one of _those_ people,” Stiles chuckles, rolling his eyes. He puts the crisp packet down though and makes grabby hands for the sandwiches, which are just out of his reach. Derek smirks triumphantly and hands him one after watching him struggle for a moment. He regrets it almost instantly as Stiles makes a mess of eating it and his eyes are drawn to the tip of a pink tongue that darts out to catch the mayonnaise at the corner of his mouth.

“I thought you were going to feed the ducks first,” he frowns, _anything_ to distract him from Stiles’ mouth. Stiles takes a moment before he swallows and Derek has to grit his teeth. He’s never letting Stiles eat again in public.

“We have all afternoon dude,” Stiles shrugs.

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek growls.

“Uh huh,” is Stiles’ noncommittal response. “These sandwiches are awesome by the way.” Derek tries not to preen at Stiles’ praise, he really does, but if the way Stiles is raising an eyebrow at him is any indication, he isn’t entirely successful. “So…” he beings hesitantly. “Dinner. Sunday.”

“What about it?”

“Do you want me to come?”

“If you want,” Derek shrugs.

“That wasn’t the question Derek,” Stiles states, aiming a flat look in his direction.

“I want you to come,” he confesses quietly, wondering if this is it. This is too much. Too soon. This is what finally pushes them over into the abyss on the other side of this bliss.

“Okay,” Stiles nods.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll come,” he elaborates, watching as Derek’s face does complicated things. “You, uh… You don’t look too happy by that,” he frowns. “Was that the wrong thing to say? I don’t have to come but you did just say you wanted me too and I know you’re kind of self-sacrificing dude but if you don’t want me to come all you have to really do is say, I don’t want to make you uncomfor-”

Derek shuts him up with a kiss. Pulling him in by the back of his neck and pressing his lips gently to his in what has to be the most innocent kiss they have shared. He plays with the hair at Stiles’ nap, which seems to make Stiles melt against him, kissing him back with the same soft incredulity that Derek is feeling.

The moment is broken by Boyd throwing grass in their faces, chuckling gleefully to himself and making both Derek and Stiles laugh. Stiles reaches out to grab his chubby fist before he can shove more grass into his mouth and Derek rests his head on Stiles’ shoulder, a contented hum beneath the surface of his skin as he watches his mate and son. When Stiles as effectively distracted Boyd with the crust of his sandwich, he turns back to Derek, the soft smile of his face reflected in his eyes and Derek’s heart squirms with happiness.

“Stiles Stilinski, I would really like it if you came to dinner with me on Sunday to meet the rest of my nutjob family and help me fend off really invasive questions the whole night,” he grins and Stiles jabs him lightly in the ribs with a pointy elbow.

“I suppose I could, seeing as you asked so nicely and all,” Stiles sighs mockingly before leaning forward and capturing Derek’s lips again.

~X~

Once they have eaten their picnic (in the _correct_ order), Derek leans against the tree and pulls out a book he was half way through. Stiles chuckles slightly before standing up and brushing the grass from his jeans, before bending over to pick up Boyd and swing him in the air. A faint blush spreads over the older man’s face when he realises how blatantly he was staring at Stiles ass. Hoping Stiles hadn’t noticed, Derek quickly flips over a page in his book and pretends to read as Stiles forces Boyd to let go of the grass clenched in his little fists.

The afternoon is spent between reading his book and watching Stiles and Boyd feeding the ducks bits of cut up grape. Boyd cackles fiercely whenever one of the ducks starts flapping its wings and eventually starts waving his arms around in an imitation, hitting Stiles in the face a couple of times as he does so. He knows, deep down, that he should be a lot more worried entrusting his son to someone who, for all intents and purposes, is still a complete stranger. In truth, Boyd rarely has contact with people outside of Derek’s family and even they are not overly regular. It had taken almost eleven months before he would even trust any of them to look after Boyd on their own, the first time he had left Boyd with Cora he had stopped at the end of their road and stayed there, within hearing distance, for almost four hours before Cora came marching out and told him she would call the police if he didn’t get his ass home.

Stiles is different though, and accidental knotting aside, there is no logical reason why. Why should he trust this random person who fate had decided to throw him in with. He already knew Stiles was hiding something from him – even if he had be the one to suggest they go out in public together and Beacon Hills really isn’t that big of a town that there is zero risk of being spotted. Someone he knows is bound to spot him with Derek but Stiles doesn’t really seem to be concerned about that. Whatever the reason though, the fact remains that Derek trusts Stiles with Boyd in a way that should scare him, not for his own safety but for his son’s.

“Derek!” Stiles calls, breaking him from his thoughts. “Stop pretending to read and come feed the ducks with us!” he orders, making Derek chuckle and put his book down, entirely forgetting to fold of the page corner to keep his place. Ambling down towards them, he watches the light glint off Stiles’ sunglasses and the cool lake waters beyond him. God he was beautiful.

Boyd squawks indignantly when Derek comes over and tries to take some grapes from the box Stiles was holding. The younger man chuckles softly, grabbing the boy’s fist before he can knock the grapes from his father’s hands. Derek presses a kiss to each of their cheeks in turn before bending down and feeding the gathered ducks, flashing his eyes a little when one looks like he might start a fight.

Derek can’t remember the last time he was this blissfully happy.

~X~

When they return from the park several hours later, Derek puts Boyd down for a nap, a little exhausted himself. He finds Stiles sitting on the sofa, flicking through TV channels without really taking anything in, worrying a little at the cuticle of his right thumbnail. Derek sits beside him and watches as Stiles scrolls over the same channels at least four times.

“Are you going to pick something?” Derek asks after a while, a little amused, a little concerned. Stiles almost jumps out of his skin.

“What? Oh, right, yeah,” he mumbles, jabbing the select button so that a program about a bunch of housewives down in Orange County. Derek raises an eyebrow but says nothing as Stiles stares blankly at the TV, moving on to his next unsuspecting cuticle. He waits him out for about seven minutes before saying anything.

“Stiles?” he says, softer than before so as not to startle him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting a little weird… Well, weirder than usual,” Derek tries to joke. How they had gone from the carefree bliss of the park to this tense and agitated atmosphere, he has no idea.

“I’m fine,” Stiles replies shorty.

“You’re not,” Derek huffs.

“I’m fine seriously,” the younger man argues back, settling back on the couch. “But I really don’t want to watch this,” he confesses, picking up the remote again and switching to a channel about orangutans in Borneo.

“You know,” Derek starts hesitantly a few minutes into the program. “If you want to leave, you can. I’m not going to stop you.”

Stiles sighs, closing his eyes for a second. “I know Derek,” he exhales. “And believe it or not, I don’t actually _want_ to leave.” There isn’t a blip in his heartbeat and Derek breathes easy again. “I just… Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?” he asks.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask,” Derek snorts and Stiles throws a cushion at him as he gets up and heads for the balcony, shutting the door behind him. Knowing he wants privacy, Derek tries to focus on the orangutans. It works pretty well for a while.

_…just a few more days…_

Orangutans favourite food is a spikey fruit called Durian.

_…the green one, no the one with the cats…_

Apparently Durians smell really bad.

_…have your tried singing…_

And taste something like custard and garlic.

_…put honey in it too…_

Orangutans also eat flowers-

_…hey honey…_

-and honey-

_…its exciting…_

-and bark and leaves-

_…she’s the best…_

-and insects. Who knew?

 _…see you soon_ …

Male orangutans grow a beard and a mustache when they hit maturity-

_…I love you…_

-as well as cheek pads and throat pouches.

_…bye._

The door of the balcony slides open again as Stiles slips his phone back into his pocket. Derek stares resolutely at the TV screen.

“Right, I feel like you’ve done all the cooking since I got here so is it alright if I make dinner?” Stiles asks, flopping down next to Derek on the couch again. He looks far more relaxed than he had when Derek had out Boyd down for a nap.

“Sure, I’m not sure what we’ve got in the fridge though,” Derek shrugs. It is only several minutes later that that he realises he used the word ‘we’. Not ‘I’. Like Stiles and Derek are a unit. Together. Stiles doesn’t seem to notice though and even if he had, Derek could have played it off as a slip of the tongue. Freud be damned.

“That’s fine, I’ll makes something up,” he snorts. “Dammit, I missed the bit about the mustache!” he complains, turning back to the TV screen.

~X~

Stiles makes dinner from the handful of things Derek has in the fridge. It’s nothing special but somehow the fact that Stiles made it for him makes it taste so much better than anything he could have come up with. He ends up praising it enough for a beautiful blush to bloom up Stiles’ neck and colour his cheeks. Stiles ends up flicking food at him and threatening to leave if he doesn’t shut up. Derek doesn’t say another word.

~X~

“Come on little man,” Stiles coos, picking up Boyd from where he is almost nodding off on his rug. “Let’s get you to bed, huh? Hey Derek, I’m going to put Boyd to bed, do you fancy making a cup of hot chocolate?” he grins pleadingly, rocking the baby in his arms absentmindedly. Derek nods, not trusting his voice as the realization hits him that Boyd trusts Stiles enough to fall asleep on him. It took Cora at least five overnight visits and countless other meetings before she could rock him to sleep in her arms.

Derek makes the hot chocolate, adding some marshmallows that were lurking in his cupboard from one of Laura’s visits as well as some freshly whipped cream. Because Stiles deserves the best. No matter what he overheard in that phone conversation that he didn’t eavesdrop on.

When Stiles comes back out a little while later, Derek listens out for Boyd, only to hear the steady breathing that indicated he was fast asleep. Even Derek sometimes struggled to get him down that fast. Stiles makes a childish squirming noise when he see the hot chocolates and immediately goes to grab one.

“Wait,” Derek orders, coming over with the coca powder and sprinkling a little on the top. “Now you can have it,” he chuckles, picking up his own as Stiles takes his and they both head over to the sofa. The TV stays off this time as Derek takes his seat and Stiles cuddles up next to him, pulling a blanket over them as well. Derek rubs a thumb over just about every inch of Stiles skin he can reach without being too obvious, leaving his scent imbedded in his, even if only temporarily.

Last night had been awkward, initially, when they had gone to bed. Derek had lain there rigid and silent, desperately wanting to pull Stiles towards him and wrap his arms around him to hold him close. He wasn’t sure if Stiles would have appreciated that though. But Stiles had been Stiles and after a few minutes of horrendously awkward silence that neither of them could have slept through, he had muttered ‘fuck it’ and reached over to grab Derek’s arm, pulling it over himself and snuggling into Derek’s warmth. From then one, physical touched seemed easy.

They chat leisurely whilst they drink their hot chocolates, Derek chuckling as Stiles gets whipped cream on his nose and tries to lick it off. Stiles tells him about all the mischief he and Scott used to get into in high school, tells him about his thesis and how he just really wants it to be finished. He doesn’t bring up the phone call. Doesn’t tell Derek who it was. And Derek doesn’t ask. Puts it to the back of his mind. Lets it eat at him in his own time, not when Stiles is warm and pliant beside him. Derek tells him stories about Boyd and his family. Tells him about living out on the preserve and how one day he wants to design and build his own house out there. Doesn’t talk about Braeden. Doesn’t mention Paige.

Eventually though, Stiles yawns and Derek reluctantly pushes him off where he had been slowly creeping onto his lap, telling him to go to bed. Derek grabs their mugs and takes them to the kitchen, bending over slightly to put them in the dishwasher.

“How do you manage to look cute and sexy at the same time?” Stiles yawns.

“Because I’m batman,” Derek snorts, using an old come back Cora used to use on him all the time. Stiles doesn’t reply so Derek turns around, knowing he’s probably going to have to explain himself. Stiles, however, is not looking at him like he has lost his mind. Stiles is looking at him as if he wants to devour him.

All sleepiness is banished from Stiles frame as he stalks towards Derek, shoving him against the counter and slamming their mouths together. Derek’s brain stutters to a stop as Stiles licks into him, hands running all over him. Heated. Wanting. Demanding. The kiss gets messy fast, just lips and tongue and _heat_. And _fuck_ Derek is hard. Stiles grinds against him and he can’t help the moan that slips unbidden from him lips. He has to remind himself to be quiet or else risk waking Boyd.

Just as Derek think’s he is about to make a mess of his pants like he is fifteen again, Stiles grabs him by the belt and drags him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. He shoves Derek against the bed, unusually silent as he stares him down. Derek is at a total loss. People always expect him to be in charge in the bedroom. Even Braeden had been surprised that he was okay with her taking charge once in a while.

Stiles just goes for it.

“Don’t,” he hisses when Derek reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. Just to relieve the tension. “Don’t touch yourself,” Stiles orders and Derek whimpers. He is not used to this. Doesn’t know what to do. Stiles stalks towards him again, reaching for his belt and undoing it, pulling it through the loops and discarding it on the floor. Then he reaches for Derek shirt, tugging it gently over his head, slapping Derek’s hands away when he tries to help. His socks are next. Then his jeans. Stiles unbuttons them tantalizingly slowly and Derek is keening with effort not to just rip them off. With his jeans go his boxers and finally, _finally_ , Derek is naked.

It takes Stiles all of two seconds to rid himself of his own clothes and Derek spares a moment to admit the unfairness of it. Then Stiles is back on him, straddling him in all his glory and Derek _wants_. Wants so badly he can barely breathe.

“Turn over,” Stiles orders.

“What?” the older man frowns.

“Turn. Over.”

“Oh,” he gasps, divided. He doesn’t submit. It’s not in his nature to submit. Its caused countless problems in the pack because he won’t always follow the order they expect him to. Submitting isn’t something he _does_.

“Turn _over_ ,” Stiles orders, voice low and demanding. Controlled. How is he so controlled when Derek feels like a complete mess. “Do it,” Stiles whispers, licking at the shell of his ear and Derek goes pliant enough that Stiles can flip him over himself, pushing him down onto his stomach. “Much better,” he croons and Derek feels his whole world coming apart.

Last night he had let Stiles undo him, had relished in Stiles’ kisses and the tenderness behind them. Tonight feels different. Then he had still been in control. Still understood what was happening. Now he feels like Stiles could do whatever he wanted and he would be powerless to stop him.

“You’re so beautiful Derek,” Stiles murmurs into the skin of his shoulders. “Has anyone ever told you that? I’ve never seen someone so utterly magnificent both in looks and in their soul. Because your soul is beautiful too Derek,” he kisses a trail down Derek’s spine.

“Stiles-” Derek manages to choke out.

“I could look at you forever,” Stiles whispers. “Especially like this, when you’re all laid out for me, all hot and desperate.”

“Please-” Derek sobs, fists clenched in the sheets.

Stiles’ tongue is languid but firm, pressing against his rim and sending shivers of pleasure down to his toes. He arches into the touch but he pulls away, only returning when Derek relaxes once more. The slow, methodical massaging of his rim makes Derek’s vision blur and when Stiles finally pushes in his tongue he’s half afraid he might whiteout. He sets up a steady rhythm, running his hands over Derek’s back, his shoulders, his thighs.

Derek is so lost to pleasure that he doesn’t even notice Stiles swap his tongue for lubed fingers until the third breaches him. The whimper escapes him unbidden as his eyes roll up into his head as those slick, spidery fingers curl around inside him, hitting the spot with ease. Stiles says nothing whilst Derek moans and curses, just continues to stretch him open. Derek’s never been fucked liked this before. Has only bottomed on the odd occasion he felt like not doing much work. He never got much pleasure from it. Not like this.

Just as Derek thinks he might pass out from pleasure, Stiles stops, pulling back and retracting those sinfully talented fingers. He barely catches a breath though before Stiles’ hand is on the back of his neck, pushing his face into the sheets.

“Do you want this Derek,” Stiles whispers, barely audible even to his werewolf hearing. “Please tell me you want this.”

“Want it-” Derek manages to force out. Because he does. He wants it so badly it _hurts_. He feels his wolf curl up and roll over and he tilts his head to the side a little. Submitting. “Want you,” he confesses so quietly he’s not sure Stiles hears him.

Then Stiles is inside him, thrusting in with one powerful stroke and Derek looses what little coherency he had left. The pace is brutal. Stiles’ slender build belies the power him. He presses him down into the mattress and just _takes_. Mouths at the side of his neck and just _marks_. He lost to it. They both are.

“ _Fuck_ Derek,” he curses. “ _Look_ at you. The _werewolf_. The werewolf submitting to a _human_ ,” he breathes, sounding a little awed. “ _Fuck_ , you’re beautiful.”

“Stiles,” Derek gasps.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” he whispers. A promise. His voice so gentle in contrast to the hard, powerful force of his hips as he rolls into Derek over and over and over.

“ _Please_ ,” he whines. “Need it. Need you. Need- _Stiles_.”

“I’ve got you,” Stiles whispers again, bending forward to engulf Derek’s body with his, plastering himself against his back as he continues to thrust mercilessly into the older man. “I’ve got you.”

Neither of them really notice when it starts, too lost in each other to register the difference. Derek whimpers with each new thrust and Stiles feels him getting tighter. Closer. By the time it registers, their brains are too clouded with desire to really take it in. Their subconscious accepting it without forcing them to really think about it.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek cries out as the younger man slams into him one last time, locking himself inside. Derek _does_ whiteout then; mind going blank with pleasure as Stiles fills him, ties himself with him. Stiles comes buried inside his mate. Arms wrapped possessively around him, holding him to his body tightly, like he’s afraid he might disappear. “Stiles,” he whimpers one last time before collapsing forward, taking Stiles with him.

The two of them all asleep like that, entwined with one another, not ever wanting to part even if they were able to. And the last thing that passes through Stiles mind before sleep drags him into its depths is _‘I didn’t even know it was_ possible _for humans to grow a knot…’_.


	4. Knock, Knock, Guess What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So it's been a while. Real life and writers block have been a bitch.

   

    

    

Boyd

**Knock, Knock, Guess What**

Stiles awakes to the soft sound of a baby crying, not the bawling he is more accustomed to but the gentle sound of an infant craving but not really demanding attention. Peeking at the clock on the bedside table, he realises it is almost noon and that he and Derek must have slept in far later than normal for this household – certainly far later than Stiles has managed to sleep in in years. Glancing over his shoulder at the wall of heat behind him, Stiles feels his stomach melt a little at the sight of Derek asleep, hair tousled from the night before and a slight bit of drool – which honestly should have been disgusting but which Stiles cannot help but find endearing – making a damp patch on the pillow case. Reluctantly pushing down the covers and swing his legs over the side of the bed, Stiles make sure not to wake the sleeping wolf but cannot resist bending over and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before he stands up and reaches for the worn burgundy sweater on the chair. Tugging it on, he relishes the way it still smells like Derek and refrains from making an undignified noise when he discovers it has _thumbholes_.

Tiptoeing through to Boyd’s room, Stiles avoids the squeaky plank and spares a moment to marvel not only at the fact that he knows which planks squeak in this apartment but also that knowing that fact does not freak him out in the slightest… rather, it settles something warm in his stomach. Boyd seems to sense him coming and stops whimpering, replacing it with happy gurgles when Stiles comes into view of his cot.

“Good morning mister man,” Stiles coos, lifting Boyd from the cot. “Did you wonder where we had gotten to?” he rambles and Boyd answers with more gurgles as Stiles changes his nappy before bring him into the kitchen and putting him in the highchair. “What would you like for breakfast buddy? We’ve got… healthy cereal… _more_ healthy cereal… bread – we can make toast I guess… have you got any eggs? Ooh yes, eggy-bread it is then,” Stiles beams, making Boyd chuckle as he waves the bag of bread around.

He hums whilst he prepares their breakfast, momentarily wondering if he should make some for Derek before remembering how peaceful Derek looked while he was sleeping and loathed to wake him. He could make Derek breakfast when he woke up on his own accord. Boyd devoured the eggy-bread before Stiles could do so much as blink and then picked at the fruit that Stiles had begrudgingly chopped up for him as well. When they were both done, Stiles washed and put away the dishes, mentally preparing Derek’s breakfast in his head before he picked up Boyd and headed for the sofa.

Boyd sits comfortably on Stiles stomach and they pull faces at each other and play some kind of hand clapping game that Stiles never quite manages to grasp the rules of. The little one gurgles happily though and Stiles’ grin grows each time. Eventually the toddler flops forward, energy faded as he snuggles down into Stiles, no doubt comforted by Derek’s scent that clung to the sweater Stiles was still wearing. Stiles pulls a blanket over them both and wraps his arms more securely around Boyd.

“What am I doing little man?” he whispers, lips pressed against Boyd’s head and the emotions of the last few days washing over him. “This is crazy… this is all completely and utterly crazy,” he continues, pulling the infant tighter against him. Boyd warbles in agreement.

“I’m scared,” Stiles confesses after a pregnant pause. Boyd snorts. “I’m terrified mister man… and you want to know why? It’s going to sound ridiculous- it _is_ ridiculous… but I think I love him. I think I’m falling in love with him,” he confesses on another whisper.

It _was_ madness. He had barely knew Derek. He had met him less than a week ago… Claiming to be in love with him wasn’t just ridiculous, it was down right absurd. But it was true. And that terrified him. Because he was not supposed to fall in love. Falling in love was not in his five year plan. Hell it was not even in his _life_ plan if he was being completely honest with himself. Sure, it would have been nice if somewhere down the line he had met someone and they had clicked and it had been all ‘ _happily ever after’_ but falling in love _now_ … it was not something he expected let alone could really _afford_. He had responsibilities. Falling in love just wasn’t supposed to be on the cards for him. And yet nonetheless… “I think I’m in love with your daddy and that scares the shit out of me.”

“S- _it_ ,” Boyd responds and Stiles groans, the swell of emotions that had threatened to draw him under just moments before faded back into the background as he was once again faced with having taught a one-and-a-half year old a swear word.

“You’re dad is going to kill me before I can even grow the balls to tell him how I feel,” he complains.

“S- _it_ ,” Boyd repeats.

“S-it indeed,” Stiles chuckles, bopping Boyd on the nose affectionately.

~X~

Not longer after, Derek appears in the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily and trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a yawn. His hair is beautifully ruffled, sticking up in every direction yet somehow looking like it had been artfully styled for some glossy magazine spread. Having been unable to locate his favourite burgundy sweater, he had opted for his much more oversized grey woolen one that practically swamped him but was so horribly soft that he had had to buy it, regardless of the fact they did not have his size. The wooden floors are cold beneath the balls of his feet, the too long legs of his faded sweats covered his heels as he padded softly into the living room.

Blinking wearily against the early afternoon sunbeams slanting in through the window, Derek spots Stiles (and _that_ is where his burgundy sweater had gotten to) lying flat on his back on the rug, wiggling a giggling Boyd above his stomach and pulling ridiculous faces at the one year old. Derek can’t help the way his nose wrinkles as he tries to tame the fondness growing in his heart for the other man.

Boyd let out a tremendous squeal, causing Stiles to hurriedly pull him in to his chest and try to quiet him, unaware that Derek is already awake and watching him. The older man smiles tenderly as his son fists Stiles’ shirt in his chubby hand, eyes following the movement of Stiles’ lips. It was a wonder that Boyd felt as safe as he did with Stiles and perhaps it was that that allowed Derek to feel what he did for the younger man. The pounding in his chest granted permission by his son’s trust.

“Derek?” Stiles suddenly remarked, finally noticing the other man who had been gazing, unfocused at the two of them. “I didn't hear you get up,” he confessed, cuddling Boyd closer as he scrambled to his feet.

“Good morning,” Derek smiles softly, turning to the coffee machine and starting it up. Pulling two mugs from the cupboard, he is startled at the realization that from the mismatched mugs he had accumulated over the years, Stiles already seemed to have commandeered the blue and orange stripped one as his own.

“Good morning,” Stiles replies, coming over to join Derek in the kitchen as he finishes off the coffee. “How are you?”

“Satisfied,” was Derek’s smirked response, making Stiles blush to the tips of his ears. “And mildly curious as to what exactly _happened_ last night. Are you sure you’re only human,” he half teases.

“Positive,” Stiles laughs. “I suppose that’s just another thing to add to the list of things we are going to have to ask someone about. Although I can tell you with complete and utter honesty that _that_ has never happened to me before. I didn't even know that was _possible_.”

“Neither did I,” the wolf agrees. “We are just two anomalies – you and I.”

“Anomalies indeed.”

Scattering some chocolate powder over the top of the foaming coffees just because he can, Derek tries in vain to suppress his smile. He could say with full certainty that he had never had such a problem before but with Stiles, it was almost impossible _not_ to smile. Regardless of the conversation being held.

“Here,” Derek offers, handing Stiles his coffee in the blue and orange mug. Not being able to rest any longer, he presses a gentle kiss to Stiles’ hairline as he pressed the mug into his waiting hands. The younger boy frowns and puts the coffee of the counter before turning back to Derek and yanking him in by his oversized sweater, pressing his mouth hotly over Derek’s.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Stiles whispers before sealing their mouths together and pushing his tongue alongside Derek’s at a torturously slow pace. Derek feels his bare toes curling into the wooden floorboards and he pulls Stiles closer to him, hands slipping beneath the burgundy wool of his own sweater just to touch Stiles’ bare skin.

Fingers tangling in Derek’s hair, Stiles finds himself pressing forward, desperate for whatever contact he can get. There is no rush, no desire to take it to the next level. Just a sweet, slow good morning kiss that has the two of them weak at the knees but eventually grinning like fools as they pull away.

“You taste like you’ve already had a coffee,” Derek finally accuses once they had been staring at each other long enough for it to become embarrassing. Their foreheads still pressed together, noses brushing and smiles reflecting off each other’s faces.

“One can never have too much coffee,” Stiles smirks.

“I think that, from a scientific perspective, that statement is not entirely accurate,” chuckles Derek.

“From a scientific perspective, I shouldn't even be here,” Stiles counters, one hand still twisted in the back of Derek’s sweater and the other resting on his neck, fingers curled gently around it and thumb absentmindedly brushing the soft skin there.

“Then science can screw itself,” Derek murmurs, pressing his lips back to Stiles’.

“Our coffee will go cold,” the younger man giggles, finally pulling away and retrieving his coffee mug. “Now hop to it and make me some brunch, I made egg-bread earlier but it hasn't quite filled me up,” he smirks, going over to the island where Boyd was sitting in his highchair playing with some kind of puzzle Derek had left out for him the night before.

“As you wish,” Derek bows mockingly, suddenly wondering if Stiles would actually catch the reference. The slight hitch in the boy’s breath suggests that he had.

~X~

Derek cooked up some bacon and eggs with toast while Stiles set about making a far more healthy snack for Boyd. They didn't speak much – they didn't really have to. The companionable silence was something Stiles was utterly and entirely unaccustomed to but he found himself enjoying it nonetheless, breaking it only occasionally with a slight hum from some song stuck in his head.

As they eat, Stiles feels Derek’s foot nudging his and he hooks his ankle around the older man’s without thinking. Jut the simple touches were enough, abating the constant craving to be close. Boyd gurgles happily when Stiles accidentally ends up hitting his cheek with the baby spoon rather than his mouth because he was too busy staring at Derek. Needless to say the blush that bloomed on his skin was a beautiful thing to behold.

“Mucky pup,” Stiles mutters, scooping up the mess he had made and wiping down Boyd’s face gently. Derek watches on with soft eyes and a heart beating a little to fast. “Look what your daddy made me do – he’s just so beautiful little man, it's a wonder he doesn't come with a hazard sign,” Stiles chuckles, pretending to whisper conspiratorially with Boyd. This time it’s Derek’s face that flushes red and Stiles grins proudly.

Eventually, they finish their breakfast and Derek sets about cleaning up the kitchen whilst Stiles offers to give Boyd a bath as the youngster had deemed it appropriate to throw food all over himself after Stiles’ initial spill. Once the toddler is bathed and re-dressed he starts nodding off on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I swear all he does is sleep,” Stiles whispers in awe, rocking the infant gently in his arms.

“Family trait – we were all sleepy babies,” Derek admits, coming over to them and wrapping his arms around them both, Boyd caught between them. “Apparently when the terrible twos hit though, that all changes,” he chuckles.

“Better enjoy it while you can then,” Stiles smirks.

“Mm hmm and how do you propose I do that?”

“Well, this little one makes quite the mess when he has a bath and my clothes are practically soaked through… was thinking of taking a shower myself, care to join?” Stiles grins, still absentmindedly rocking the sleeping Boyd.

“I suppose so,” the older man teases, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’ forehead before letting him go and taking his son from him. “I’ll put him down and by the time I’m done I expect you to be in the shower, naked,” he whispers before taking off into Boyd’s room.

By the time Derek joins him, Stiles is already running his hand over his hardening dick, water droplets cascading down his skin and eyes hooded. Derek curses, opening the shower door and stepping into the mist. God Stiles was magnificent. For a moment, he is torn between wanting to watch him and wanting to touch him but eventually the latter wins out and Derek presses Stiles bodily against the shower wall.

“Derek,” the younger man pants, removing his hand from his dick to bring them both up to Derek’s hair, twisting his fingers into the now wet locks. “Touch me,” he orders and Derek has no problems complying, running his hands down Stiles’ sides, his back, over his ass.

“Turn around,” Derek commands, pulling back and turning Stiles himself, arranging him just as he wanted. He starts with a kiss at the base of his neck, between his shoulder blades, down his spine… until he is kneeling on the shower floor, massaging the glorious round globes of Stiles’ ass. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over Stiles heated skin, the shower spluttering above them.

“Want your mouth,” Stiles pants. “Want your tongue, want you inside me.”

Derek complies happily, pressing a sloppy kiss to Stiles’ hole, pulling his cheeks apart with his thumbs to get better access. His tongue catches on Stiles’ rim and the younger man moans so loudly he’s half afraid he’ll wake Boyd up.

“Oh _god_ ,” Stiles gasps, thighs quivering as Derek presses his tongue against him. “Lube. Where’s the lube?” he suddenly demands when the sensations become almost overwhelming. “I need you to fuck me. Right now,” he orders, voice hoarse.

“As you wish,” Derek murmurs into the skin at the base of his spine, leaving a kiss there before getting up and reaching for the lube he had had the foresight to bring in with him. Coating his fingers he makes quick work of opening Stiles up, any plans of taking it slow vanishing as Stiles lets out another moan that goes straight to Derek’s dick.

“Your fingers- are incredible,” Stiles pants, upper body pressed against the wall for support.

“ _You’re_ incredible,” Derek whispers into the hair at the nape of his neck, finally finding that spot and pressing two fingers against it, making the younger boy’s eyelids flutter shut and a beautiful whimper escape his parted lips.

“Need you inside me,” Stiles pants when he regains the ability to speak. “Fuck me,” he orders. And so Derek does, pushing passed the ring of muscle in one swift motion, burrowing himself deep inside of Stiles, a rush of air escaping his lungs as his vision blurs with pleasure.

Somehow Derek manages to keep a steady pace, rolling over and over again, dick brushing Stiles prostate with almost every stroke. The younger boy’s eyes are closed, arms braced against the wall either side of his head. Derek wraps his own arm around Stiles chest, holding him to him whilst the other comes up to entangle their fingers together against the wall, supporting them both.

“Derek,” Stiles chokes out, sounding almost broken. Derek only rolls back into him, over and over. Water and sweat intermingle on their skin, pants and whines and moans cascading off one another.

“Stiles,” Derek moans, mouth pressed to the skin behind the other man’s ear. “Come for me,” he pleads. And so Stiles does, coming untouched in heavy spurts against the wall, the shower water quickly washing it away. The young man quivers in Derek’s holds, legs threatening to give out beneath him.

Derek pulls out, turning Stiles around and picking him up, somehow maneuvering them out of the shower and through into his room, falling onto the bed still dripping wet. Stiles whimpers a little but pushes Derek back, straddling him and sinking back down onto his cock.

Rolling his hips in a slow and torturous rhythm, Stiles lets his eyes fall shut, hands bracing himself on Derek’s chest. His soft dick brushes over Derek’s stomach, not quite able to take interest in the proceedings just yet. Derek can do nothing but lie back and watch as Stiles practically quivered about him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He is so beautiful.

“Derek,” Stiles sighs, eyelashes fluttering as he starts to move a little faster. Time seemed to have ceased for them both, not knowing whether they had been there for mere minutes or for hours as Stiles takes and takes and takes, leaving Derek a breathless wreck beneath him.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he groans, hands finally coming up to hold onto the younger boys hips. The two work in tandem from that moment on, molding their bodies to each other, fitting together seamlessly. Stiles is hard again now, precum leaking from his tip and smearing over Derek’s stomach. They don't speak anymore, both too lost in pleasure as they move together. Derek manages to hold off, biting his lip until it bleeds. It is Stiles who looses control first, giving in to bliss as he rides Derek’s cock. When he comes, he lets out the most pitiful whimper and it is that, more than anything, that makes Derek loose control, thrusting once more up into Stiles perfectly tight ass before his eyes fluttered shut and his mind when blank.

In the hazy aftermaths, Stiles wiped them both down, soft and quiet and happy. Then he curled into Derek’s side, one arm tucked securely around the older man as they both drifted off to sleep.

~X~

For the second time that day, Stiles is awoken by Boyd making soft noises of discomfort. Slipping from the bed, Stiles retrieves the burgundy sweater and a pair of boxers from Derek’s draws before opening the door quietly. Boyd gives him a surprisingly unimpressed look as Stiles picks him out of his cot and places him on the changing mat. Making quick work of Boyd’s soiled nappy, they then head into the living area and Stiles grabs some grapes from the fridge, which makes Boyd gurgle happily.

“So mister man, what are we going to do today?” Stiles queries, cutting the grapes in half before handing them to the little one. Scanning the living room, Stiles contemplates how he could entertain both himself and Boyd. Noticing the pile of blankets stacked at one end of the couch in a wicker basket, Stiles grins a little. “I know _exactly_ what we’re going to do,” he proclaims, finishing off the rest of the grapes and putting them in a bowl for Boyd.

Picking Boyd up out of his highchair and grabbing the bowl, Stiles takes them over to the couch, putting Boyd down on the carpet in front of it. “We’re going to build a blanket fort,” he exclaims excitedly, clapping his hands together and making Boyd giggle.

Which is exactly what Derek hears almost an hour later when he comes sauntering out of his room, only to be greeted by the sight of his nice and orderly sitting area covered entirely with blankets. He finds himself smiling once again as he tiptoes over to the den, listening for any signed that either of them had noticed his presence.

“Boo,” he laughs, lifting up the corner of one of the blankets to peak inside. Stiles is lying on his back, blankets and pillows bundled around him and Boyd tucked into his side, reading one of the books Derek has been trying to get his son interest in for weeks.

“Holy smokeballs Derek,” Stiles gasps, after the initial shock wears off. Boyd only chuckles at them both. “You scared the crap out of me,” he pouts.

“Sorry,” the older man smirks, clearly not sorry at all. “Room for one more?” he asks. Stiles scoots over, pulling Boyd with him so there is enough room for Derek to squeeze in beside them. “Well this is cozy,” Derek chuckles as he almost brained himself on the edge of the sofa that was being used as one wall of the fort. “Any particular reason why you decided that the sofa was not good enough on its own?”

“Everyone knows blanket forts are the best Derek, don't be such a killjoy,” Stiles teases, sticking his tongue out at him. His eyes are shining though, happiness oozing out of him, the sweet smell filling the enclosed space and making Derek lightheaded. What had he ever done to deserve this?

Boyd grabs Derek’s t-shirt, fisting his tiny hand in it and trying to pull him closer. Derek goes willingly, curling himself around his son, legs entangling with Stiles’ and arm stretching out over them both. He nuzzles Boyd’s head before pressing a kiss to Stiles’ arm and urging him to continue reading. Stiles smiles softly before picking up the book again. His voice is calming in the quiet of the den, the different characters given different tones, some of which make Boyd giggle and some of which make his eyes widen comically.

Derek lies there, absentmindedly stroking his son’s head and listening to the wild tale unfold. Stiles fits so seamlessly into their lives it is getting harder and harder to remember a life without him in it. No one has ever made Boyd so at ease in such a short space of time before; no one has made _Derek_ so at ease in such a short space of time before. Stiles is different. He is special. And Derek is so utterly in love.

The thought collides into him unbidden. With no warning, no way to stop it. He is in love.

Derek has been in love before. Many years ago. It was brutal and raw. And it ended in blood and blue eyes. He cannot go through that again.

But Stiles is different and maybe Derek learned his lesson the first time. Maybe this time it will not end in death and misery, maybe, just maybe, this could work. Maybe in time, Stiles will learn to love him too. Not yet, maybe not for a while… but sometime. For a moment, Derek lets himself hope, lets himself dream of a future with Stiles at his side. For a moment, Derek forgets that Stiles is hiding something from him. That despite all the moments they have shared where it feels like no one else exists, despite the connection between them that feels so strong Derek both hopes and fears it can never be broken… despite it all, Stiles is keeping something from him.

Boyd looks over his shoulder with a slight frown, sensing a shift in his father’s mood. Inhaling Boyd’s scent deeply, Derek tries to calm himself but the air is thick with Stiles’ scent as well, mingling with his and Boyd’s in a way that Derek has only ever experienced with _family_. He shuts his eyes and buries his nose in Boyd’s neck, trying to block out the rest of the scents. Even Boyd smells like Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Stiles whispers softly and Derek extracts his face and blinks up at him. There is a frown etched onto Stiles’ forehead and he looks so concerned Derek’s heart clenches. He can do nothing but nod, reaching out and entangling his fingers with Stiles’ free hand and squeezing comfortingly. Stiles smiles at him and its such a small, private smile that Derek knows, then and there, that whatever Stiles is hiding, Derek will do whatever he can to keep Stiles in his life. No matter what.

Stiles pulls there linked hands up to kiss at Derek’s knuckles before he turns back to the book, picking up where he left off as his thumb absentmindedly strokes over the place his lips had just kissed.

~X~

They spent the afternoon tucked in the tiny blanket fort, curled around each other. Derek escaped for a while to regain his composure and make some sandwiches for the three of them. Boyd was utterly delighted and Derek could not recall ever seeing his son so happy, snuggled between Stiles and himself. Stiles showered them both in kisses at random intervals, sung softly to Boyd when he crawled onto Stiles’ chest for a nap, smiled at Derek with such warmth his heart stuttered every time.

It is four o’clock by the time they untangle themselves and crawl out of the fort. Stiles laughs as Derek gets twisted up in one of the blankets, tripping as he tries to stand up. Boyd giggles adorably and in the end, Derek cannot help but laugh as well. Derek tells Stiles that he made the fort so he has to clear it up whilst Derek takes a quick shower, having not cleaned up properly since their exploits earlier that day.

Boyd ‘helps’ Stiles by tugging the blankets he had just folded off of the sofa and cackling when Stiles growls at him before doing it all over again. Eventually Stiles puts on the Queen record and Boyd gets distracted doing his strange little dance so Stiles can actually put away the blankets. By the time he is finished Boyd has pulled himself into a standing position and is wiggling away to the beat. Desperate to preserve the moment, Stiles reaches into his pocket for his phone to take a video only to find it is not there.

“Derek! Have you seen my phone?” he calls out. Derek emerges from his bedroom, a loose pair of sweats and pale blue t-shirt on, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. He shakes his head before he spots Boyd dancing and grins.

“I can assure you that he does not get those moves from me,” Derek chuckles.

“I don't know about that, you sure know how to move your hips,” Stiles smirks, wandering past him to see if he left his phone in Derek’s room. The room had been pristine when Stiles had first seen it and now there were clothes scattered everywhere and the sheets were a crumpled mess that really ought to be changed. Stiles manages to locate his phone in the pocket of his jeans that had been kicked under the bed only to see it was out of charge.

Grabbing his charger from his bag, he headed back into the main room, plugging it in on the kitchen counter, laughing at Derek and Boyd, who were now both wiggling their hips to Queen’s _Fat Bottomed Girls_. He really did not stand a chance; it was impossible not to love them both.

“Did you find it?” Derek asks.

“Yeah but its dead,” Stiles shrugs, coming over to join in the dance party. He almost misses when his phone turns itself back on and a series of notifications stream in.

“Are you going to check that?” Derek chuckles, watching Stiles pull faces at Boyd whilst singing along to the lyrics. Stiles just shrugs and continues to dance with Boyd. Derek rolls his eyes at them and moves to the kitchen, eyes glancing to the lit up screen of Stiles’ phone.

_24 missed calls from Scott._

_6 missed calls from Allison._

_8 text messages from Scott._

_2 missed calls from Lydia._

_1 text message from Lydia._

“Um… Sitles?” he frowns. “I think someone is pretty eager to get ahold of you.”

“What?”

“You have a whole bunch of missed calls,” Derek calls out a little louder, turning to see Stiles’ head snap up. He lets go of Boyd’s hands and hurries into the kitchen, grabbing his phone from the charger and quickly scanning the notifications.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters under his breath, not looking at Derek as he practically runs out onto the balcony, phone already pressed to his ear. Derek watches in confusion as Stiles paces, backwards and forwards. Whoever he is calling does not seem to be picking up as he keeps pulling the phone away from his ear and redialing. He is cursing under his breath and Derek can smell his panic from inside. Blinking, he tries to refocus his attention to give Stiles some privacy even though all he wants to do it go out onto the balcony and comfort him.

Boyd has sat down again, looking between his father and Stiles in confusion. His heartbeat is steady though. The tap in the bathroom was not shut off completely, a steady dripping sound. In the apartment above them, a window is banging in the breeze. The ancient lift is creaking again. Somewhere in the complex a child is crying hysterically. A car is screeching on the breaks outside. Stiles heartbeat is increasing rapidly.

Outside in the corridor, a phone is buzzing persistently.

The child is still crying.

Someone knocks on a door.

It takes a moment for Derek to realise that someone is knocking on _his_ door. Boyd looks distressed all of a sudden; Derek picks up him and bounces him a little until he does not look on the edge of tears anymore. Then he places him in the rarely used playpen in the corner of the sitting area. The knocking on the door gets louder just as Stiles comes back in, heading straight for Derek’s room, phone still pressed to ear.

Derek pauses by the door, eyes still on Stiles. Three heartbeats. Opening it, he is nearly knocked over by a flurry of blonde hair that reaches barely above his knees. Behind him, Stiles freezes. Derek watches as the tiny blonde creature tackles Stiles, hurling herself into him dramatically and still crying hysterically. Blinking, Derek turns his attention back to the door where another man is standing, looking extremely sheepish and holding a baby in his arms.

“Uh, hi? I’m Scott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com)   
>  [Tumblr For This Fic](http://destiny-knows-best.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers for reading buddies. Hope you enjoyed, please leave comments if you have any and come check me out on [tumblr](http://taliskermortem.tumblr.com/).


End file.
